


Tiny Impala

by BurningTea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Engaged Dean/Cas, Human Castiel, M/M, Maybe fluff which is growing some plot, Now with added plot, Wedding Planning, pretty much just fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 01:46:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4503099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningTea/pseuds/BurningTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off a tumblr post with suggested pretending-not-to-be-boyfriends AUs. I would credit better but I have lost the post, now. Feel free to help me out with that!</p><p>Dean has been working up to telling Mary about his boyfriend for ages, but he still hasn't got as far as telling her he's bisexual. Before he manages it, she tries to set him up with her friend's cute neighbour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The hissing of rain against the window pain created a comfortable white noise, muffling the worries in Dean’s head as well as the world outside. It was peaceful. Nice. It helped him to settle the nagging voices at the edges of his mind that spent most of his day chanting at him that he’d never find the perfect way to tell his mom, well, any of the things he had to tell her. Somehow, with the day long rain-fest going strong, it felt like the world had carved him a piece of life where he could pretend he didn’t have anything to tell her. Nothing at all.

Instead, he could focus on the papers in front of him, he could savour the mug of coffee which sat at his elbow, the steam curling up over the rim. He could enjoy his mom’s voice as she chatted away on the phone to someone, the smile in her voice a relief after how down she’d been lately.

She was always like that at this time of year. 

The click of the phone landing back in its cradle brought his head up in time to greet his mom with a smile as she almost sashayed back into the kitchen, the yellow daises on her top matching the butter yellow walls. It was the first time in weeks she hadn’t looked drained next to the cheerful paintwork. His smile grew wider.

“Are you being the Cheshire-cat there, honey?” she asked, pausing to drop a kiss to his forehead on her way past to the counter. “Cake? It’s coconut and raspberry. New recipe.”

“New, huh?” Dean asked. “You after someone to taste-test?”

“Oh, absolutely. How else will I know whether it’s up to Jess’ standards?”

Dean chuckled, pushing his papers to the side and gesturing at his Mom to bring him a slice.

“Well, we all know how Jess judges you if you haven’t go the cake right. It’s practically my sworn duty to help you out, here.”

As duties went, it wasn’t a bad one. He was into the second piece before he noticed the way his mom was looking at him, flicking an amused glance at him and then looking away. Setting his fork down, he leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow at her.

“What?” he asked, his good humour bubbling up through the word. “Do I have some on my face?” 

She reached over and caught his hand before he could swipe at his face, shaking her head. Her lips twitched. 

“No. Well, yes. Some jam up on your cheek. But get it in a minute. I have something I want to talk to you about, first.”

Not the best thing he’d ever heard, but she still looked warm and happy, so he told himself not to tense up about it. This wasn’t like the talk they’d had about his dad. Or about Sammy, all those years ago. No-one was leaving. Everyone was safe. 

“What is it, Mom?” He couldn’t be blamed if his voice was just a bit flatter, considering.

“Oh, it’s nothing bad, sweetheart,” she said, her eyes clouding briefly. She never did like to add to his troubles. “Really. It’s just I got the recipe from Norma. You know, my friend from work.”

“The one with the adopted daughter? And the crafting?” All of his mom’s friends, from work or otherwise, had tags attached to them in Dean’s mind. Norma was fun enough to hear about but sounded like she’d be a bit much in person. He hoped his mom wasn’t building up to give him something Norma had made. The felt dogs had been the stuff of nightmares, floral print or not. 

“Yes,” Mary said, squeezing her hand around Dean’s. “And I stopped by to pick it up on the way home last night. She wanted to show me some little bags she’s made, as well, in case Jess might want them at work, and I stayed to have a cup of tea with her in the garden.”

“Jess works for the CIA, Mom. I don’t think she’d have much use for wonky little floral bags.”

Mary barely seemed to notice the interruption, so it wasn’t that she was wanting to talk about. 

“While we were having a chat, Norma’s neighbour came by to drop off a parcel. Lovely person. We got to talking after Norma insisted we all had more tea, and it turns out you aren’t the only one who loves fantasy fiction.”

“I kind of knew that,” Dean said, but her enthusiasm was infectious. She was happy because she’d met someone else who loved fantasy. Dean could introduce her to dozens of his friends who loved fantasy, and had, but Mary clearly felt she’d bagged something on a hunt by stumbling across someone herself. It was sweet. “We’re a growing breed, these days.”

“Yes,” Mary said, tapping at the table-top with the pointer finger of her other hand, “but this one is really cute. And single. I checked.” 

“Mom!”

“Subtly. I do know how to interrogate a suspect, Dean,” Mary reminded him, a shade reproachfully. 

“Sorry, Mom.” Mary coming from a long line of cops and having being a cop herself until a few years ago was such a part of Dean’s background that he sometimes forgot what it actually meant. “Still, finding out if a cute neighbour has a boyfriend isn’t quite the same thing as cracking open a case.”

“Of course it isn’t, sweetie. But it’s close enough. And Norma’s going to find out whether we can set the two of you up on a date this weekend.”

“What?” His heart jolted. A date? God, he either had to tell her, right now, or else hope this woman, cute and into fantasy as she was, would turn down a date with a stranger’s son. “Mom, I can find my own dates.”

“I know. I know. But, let’s be honest, you haven’t mentioned anyone in ages, and with your brother’s wedding coming up, you might want someone to take. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Dean. I just thought the two of you might get on, I can tell you there is no issue in the looks department, and I’m not saying you have to get married. Just go on a date. See if you click. I mean, if things were different, I wouldn’t say no, myself.”

“That cute, huh?” Dean asked, feeling jittery as his mom’s words for a whole different reason. If she could joke like that, then maybe she wouldn’t have an issue… But she’d been so pleased when Jess and Sam had announced the pregnancy. Mary Winchester wanted Dean to have kids, too, and even though Dean knew adoption and surrogacy were things, his mom had always talked as though Dean would have the whole living with a pregnant wife experience. She wanted Dean to have a wife. 

“Oh, that cute. You’d better believe it. More cake?”

Dean let her talk him into sharing a third slice, and he was seriously starting to think he was past needing any food when he got home, and he managed to turn the talk to other things. A couple of times, he almost spilled his secrets, or told himself he was building up to it, but he always pulled back. 

When he left, the beads of rainwater settling on his hair and making his shoulders damp, Mary was still just as much in the dark as she had been for years. 

 

*********************************************

 

Charlie grinned at Dean as he ducked into the living room, spreading her arms out to either side and bouncing slightly on her toes. 

“Well?” she asked. “Did I do good or did I do amazing?”

“Amazing, Charlie. Just like always.” 

He didn’t have to work at all to put admiration into his voice. Charlie had worked wonders. He’d had his doubts about clearing out and leaving this in someone else’s hands, but Charlie had reminded him how this was already a stressful thing he was doing, and how awesome she was at stopping Dean from messing up his own attempts at romance. Plus, she had about fifty feet of bunting that was just hanging out in her apartment doing nothing. 

Now, that bunting was draped over Dean’s living room, mixed with flowers and candles and pictures that Dean had never seen printed out before. 

“Did you raid everyone’s Facebook albums for these?” he asked, noticing one of the whole group of them at the beach the summer before. It had certainly never been on his page. He couldn’t risk it, not with his Mom and his Dad being his Facebook friends, which, yeah, that wasn’t a bed of roses at the best of times. Editing half of his life out of his Facebook presence was just one of the things he was wound up about on an almost constant basis. 

Another photo, of their trip to New York, sat in a silver frame on a side-table. It had been one of his favourites since he’d first seen it, the two of them grinning with just their heads in the frame, the lights of the city out of focus behind them.

“Yep,” Charlie said, clearly delighted with herself. “I had a bit of help. A whole load of people are rooting for you, here, Winchester. Anna got you that bottle of wine,” and she gestured to a bottle red on the small dining table that had appeared in the middle of the room, right where his coffee table normally lived, “Madison let me borrow the table from her place, the table-cloth, which, you know, is only the most glorious table-cloth ever to grace a table, is courtesy of Sarah and Kevin wrote out everything you’re planning to say in three different languages, just in case you want to change it up a bit. They’re in the card.”

The card in question was thick, cream and lying where Dean’s plate would do. A tiny model of the Impala sat on top of it.

“And the baby version of Baby?” he asked, relaxing just a bit at the sight. It was just weird enough for this sort of occasion that it calmed him right down, made him forget that he still hadn’t worked up to telling his mom, that he could never see himself telling his dad, and that in about an hour he might be just as single as his family thought he was. 

“That’s from a friend,” Charlie said. “It’s to, you know, drive your words to where they need to be, or something. Shut up. I think it’s cute.”

A friend. Well, any one of Dean’s friend’s could have done something that perfect and soppy and not want to own up to it for fear of Dean never letting them live it down, so he’d let it drop for now. 

“Right. Okay. Anything else I should know about? Firetruck in the pudding in case things are getting too heated? Enterprise in the wine glasses in case I need to beam up?”

“Yeah, I think I saw both of those,” Charlie said, and she moved in for a hug, stretching up to pull him in tight before whispering in his ear. “But you don’t need anything, because he is going to say ‘yes’. You could ask him over a cheap burger at Biggerson’s or in the middle of one of our campaigns, and he’d say ‘yes’. So no getting yourself worked up. All right?”

He nodded.

“All right, Charlie. Hey, and thanks. It’s nice.” It felt like he had his friends there, giving their support, without having to actually have them there, watching and listening, and, wow, now he was thinking of the bunting and other things actually standing in for his friends, and suddenly it was like they would be watching, and-

“Hey!” Charlie’s push at his arm worked, breaking his internal ramble. “What did I just get through saying? Now, I would have organized something romantic food-wise, but as neither one of you would recognize fine dining if it bit you, there’s a homemade pizza and then Benny’s left you a pie. No, I don’t know what kind, but I do know there’s a whole load of ice-cream. So, you all set?”

This time, he managed to sound convincing enough that Charlie wished him luck once more and left, the front door clicking behind her. He just had time to get a shower and change, and the timer on the oven was a few minutes off finishing when he made his way back down stairs and into the kitchen. He knew enough about Charlie’s planning abilities to trust the timer rather than fussing with anything, so he was standing in the living room, turning the tiny Impala over and over in his hands, when the doorbell rang.

Right. Good. This was a key moment in his life. He was looking forwards to this. 

The metal of the car pressed into his hand as he made it to the door and took a deep breath. Calm. Calm and happy and not at all having a quiet melt-down. This was his best friend, his lover, the person he’d already built his life around. There was no reason to be getting worked up. He pulled the door open.

“Are you all right?” Cas asked, his smile of greeting fading into concern in an instant. 

He stepped into the hallway, lifting his hand and pressing it to Dean’s forehead. 

“You look flushed. Are you coming down with something?”

“What? No. Cas, I’m fine. Er. Yeah. Just…um.” 

This was going great. 

“Just um?” Cas asked, the smile coming back with an amused edge. “Dean, are you nervous? Of me?”

“Should I be?” Dean asked, some of the tension trickling out of him as Cas’ closeness washed away silly ideas of having to fit a certain standard for this to be okay. “You got plans I need to know about?”

Cas scrunched up his face, his eyes narrowing so much that it was impossible to see any of their colour at all. His lips pulled into one of Dean’s favourite expressions, the one where Cas looked like he was about to outwit a whole army of people while looking totally unaware he was doing it. 

“Well,” he said, drawing the word out, “there is that plan to sacrifice you to the elder gods, but I wasn’t going to do that until at least next Tuesday.”

“So I’m safe, then?” Dean asked, moving back slowly with a swaying step as Cas got closer, pushing into his space and matching his movements so that they performed a strange, almost dance down the hallway.

“No,” Cas said. “Not until Tuesday.”

“Well, good. Because I have plans of my own for you tonight.”

He saw Cas’ face shift again, playfulness changing to something more serious, something hotter.

“I just bet you do,” he murmured, and Dean forgot how he was meant to be giving a speech to Cas on the way into the living room, a speech Charlie and Anna had helped him to write about life and chocolate cake and adventure, and just let Cas kiss him.

The kiss broke off quickly once they were in the living room, Cas pulling back, his brows folding into a frown.

“Dean?” he asked, sounding less certain than he normally did. “What’s all this?”

“Er. Yeah.” Dean ducked his head and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “About that…”

Cas was looking around, his lips parting as his gaze fell on each photograph, on the flowers and bunting, on the table and the wine. He looked back at Dean with such a radiant expression that all of Dean’s worries fled away. Of course Charlie had been right. There was no reason to be worried about this. Cas was home, and he made Dean feel loved and wanted every day. No way was the guy going to walk out on Dean now. And even if Cas didn’t want to get married, that didn’t mean they had to break up. 

“Dean?” Cas asked, low and wondering. “You said pizza and a movie.”

“Well, as it happens, the pizza part turns out to be true. The movie, not so much.”

And he found his face splitting into a grin as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the one thing he had insisted on sorting out for himself. Cas’ eyes widened at the sight of the box in Dean’s hands, and somehow managed to widen further when Dean went down on his knee, opening the box as he went.

The silver band inside was simple. Dean had thought about finding something deeply significant, but he’d decided against it. All this had to symbolise was being a ring he thought Cas would like.

“What do you say, Novak?” he asked. “You want to make this official?”

“Yes,” Cas said. 

He grabbed Dean and pulled him to his feet, pulling the box out of Dean’s hands and putting the ring on himself.

“Hey, I’m not going to take it back,” Dean said, but he couldn’t help but smile at Cas’ obvious joy.

“You’d have stayed down on your knees for ages,” Cas said, flexing his hand and apparently liking the look of the ring on his finger.

Dean smirked.

“You don’t normally mind when I’m down on my knees for you.”

“And I take this ring as a symbol of your intention to keep doing that many times for the rest of our lives,” Cas said, taking Dean’s innuendo in stride as usual and sounding like he was talking about something that did not involve gasping and gripping Dean’s hair. “I haven’t got one for you.” 

He sounded sad, something Dean could not allow.

“Not a problem,” he said, and pulled the other ring out of his pocket. “I got us matching ones. I mean…if that’s okay with you. We can go and get me another ring if-”

“No. No, that’s perfect,” Cas said, and finally, finally, he pulled Dean in and kissed him again.

They were still kissing when the timer went off, and it was only when the smell of smoke added itself to the irritation that they pulled apart. The pizza was a bit more…golden brown than was ideal, but they ate it anyway, the tiny Impala sitting on the table between then and identical rings catching the candle-light. 

Neither one of them mentioned their parents. 

 

***********************************************

 

It was almost a week later, with the sun gilding the leaves of the trees and doing a piss-poor job of cheering Dean up, that he heard about this neighbour again.

His mom had dirt on her cheek from where she wiped hair out of her face a while back, and Dean was pretty sure he’d have dirt on his skin, too, and his clothes, but he hadn’t bothered checking. He never liked gardening, but sometimes a hole needed digging or something needed burning and he never liked leaving his mom to do all of the tasks by herself, even though he knew, really, that she could. Still, just because he’d volunteered himself for this didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.

Besides, it wasn’t really what had put him in a bad mood.

“And he just showed up?” he asked, his right hand tightening around the tiny Impala in his pocket. “No warning? Nothing?”

“Yes, Dean,” Mary said, her body shifting as she kept at her digging. Weeds were apparently something she couldn’t look away from. “Like I said, he came round to see how I was doing.”

“To see how you were doing?” Dean asked. “Really? He didn’t come round to see how you were doing after I told him you hurt your knee, or after that storm the other month, or-”

“I know, Dean,” Mary broke in, her voice a little sharper. “But I don’t know what you want me to say. It isn’t like I can choose what he does.”

Which…was a fair point. Dean slumped, sighing. 

“Yeah, Mom. I know. It’s just… He gets me so worked up. He just thinks he can turn up when it suits him. I mean, was he even sober?”

“Oh, yes. Totally sober,” she said. “In fact, he wanted to show me his chip. Six months. And he wanted to tell me about his job, and his apartment.” With every new thing John Winchester had told her, Mary dug a little harder into the dirt. Dean couldn’t tell if she was still getting up that root cluster or just stabbing the earth. “And to remind me how much fun we used to have going dancing, and eating out, and…” 

She stopped, sitting back on her heels and closing her eyes.

“Look, if he’s doing better, then that’s great. It means Sammy’s girl has a better chance at getting to know her Granddad. We should just be happy for him.”

“Not if he’s weaseling round trying to get you back, we don’t,” Dean said. “You are worth ten of him.”

Finally, a smile slipped onto Mary’s face. 

“Thank-you, sweetheart,” she said. Pushing herself to her feet and wincing, probably from that knee, Mary nodded to the back door. “Why don’t we go in and try some of the new cake I’ve made. I’m trying to decide between it and the coconut for the family bake-off.”

“Mom,” Dean said, letting her have this distraction even though he had plenty more to say on the topic of his dad, “I really don’t know why you worry about it. No way is Jess going to win.”

“You know as well as I do that it isn’t about the winning,” Mary said. “It’s about respect. This bake-off is what gives me status for the next year. This cake has to be enough to show all the other contenders that I am worthy.”

“Don’t you need a hammer for that?” Dean asked, but he trailed after he into the house and let her feed him a slice of something that might have had nutmeg in it. It tasted a bit like Christmas. 

Cas had been talking about a winter wedding. 

Mary chose that moment to move back on to her new favourite topic for when they were eating cake. 

“So, I checked with Norma, and her neighbour is absolutely up for a date. We suggested you might meet up this Friday, actually, and see how you get on.”

“Friday?” Friday was Netflix night. Quite aside from anything else, Charlie would banish him if he missed it. They were all set to mainline Daredevil this Friday, after weeks of someone or other not being able to make it and Charlie refusing to watch this particular show without everyone there, because it was crucial that everyone kept up to date with the MCU. “I’m kind of busy already on Friday, Mom.”

And engaged, but he still couldn’t say it, not with the memory of his dad’s attitude floating all fresh around his head. 

Cas was not going to be best pleased, what with Dean having promised to work out a way to tell his mom today, but it was going to have to wait until John wasn’t angling to get Mary back. Again. 

“I’d just really like you to give this a go, Dean,” his mom said. “You don’t have to make a big thing of it. Just meet at the bar or go to see a film.”

“So, just go on a typical date?” he asked, but she was looking at him with such hope, he couldn’t quite bring himself to be as firm as he should be. “Look, tell you what, just give me the phone number and I’ll sort something out.”

He’d ring and explain and it would all be fine. 

Mary looked so pleased as she tapped the number into his phone that Dean couldn’t even feel that bad about it.

 

********************************************************

 

“You said you’d do what?” Cas asked, and the narrowed eyes weren’t a sign of anything good this time. 

“She thinks I agreed to go on a date,” Dean said. “But I didn’t. Not really.”

“Not really?” 

Cas sat with his forearms resting on the table at Anna’s house, his hands clasped together, and the same look he’d had on his face the time he’d waded right into a lake after Dick Roman had tried it on with Anna. Dick had certainly not expected to be dragged into the lake near their picnic spot and nearly drowned. Cas had said he was in complete control, once Dean and Benny had dragged him off Dick and out of the lake, but there was a core in Cas that took over sometimes, a core that meant he just did not back down at times when Dean really wished he would. He was glad there wasn’t a lake around. 

“No, not really. Come on, Cas. You now me. I’d never cheat. I’m not my dad!”

“That’s not what I’m getting at,” Cas said.

“You’re not?”

“No. Of course not. You can’t seriously think I’d worry about you cheating. What I’m not happy about is that you still haven’t told your mother. No, Dean,” he said, holding up a hand and not slowing down. “I would never try to out you, but we agreed that married life is going to be a lot harder if your own mother doesn’t even know I exist. If you want that, to keep her in the dark, then I will respect your wishes, but it isn’t good for you.”

Dean found himself looking away, listening out for Anna to come in from the kitchen and release him from a private conversation. He could hear her chatting away, most likely sharing a scandalous story with Ruby about what she’d been up to at work, but the voices weren’t getting any nearer. 

“Okay,” he said. “No. You’re right. I…I want her to know. I do.”

“What will make it easier for you to tell her?” Cas asked. And that was Cas, right in with wanting a plan, a strategy.

“Well, first I’ll call this girl, make sure she knows not to expect a date on Friday. Then, I’ll ring mom and arrange to go round again tomorrow. I’ll tell her then, no matter how many times my dad’s been round or how bad she is at setting me up to tell her.”

“Big of you,” Cas said, but his lips were curving right at the edges now. 

“Yeah. I can be pretty big,” Dean said.

“Ew. Dean,” Anna said, finally showing up with a bowl of chips and a plate of onion rings. “I’m sure Cas already knows how big you are and the rest of us don’t need to.”

Ruby grinned from Anna’s side, depositing her own plate of snacks and standing back with her hands on her hips. 

“Oh, I don’t know. I could stand a show.”

“Ruby!” 

All three of them protesting at once just made her laugh, and it wasn’t until they were done with their third game of Fluxx that Dean nodded to Cas, excused himself to the patio, and pulled out his phone. His mom had saved the number under ‘Cute!’, which he really hoped wasn’t actually the girl’s name, and the number was dialing before he knew it.

He turned to look back in through the glass as he waited for the phone to be answered, watching Cas laugh at something Anna said, one of those small little laughs than most people probably thought meant he was just being polite. It was one of Dean’s favourite expressions on him.

As he watched, Cas looked down and got his own phone out, frowning. He looked up and met Dean’s eyes, the frown giving way to a glitter of amusement. What was Cas finding so funny?

He didn’t have time to worry about it as the ringing stopped.

“Uh. Hey,” he started. “I think my mom and your Norma, er, your neighbour have been trying to set us up on a date?” 

He almost dropped his phone a moment later when a deep, rough voice answered him.

“So it would seem,” he said. “Although this is the first time I’ve been told Norma belongs to me. If it’s all the same with you, I’d rather not go into slave ownership. It might clash with my duties sacrificing hot men to the elder gods.”

And Cas, the bastard, winked at Dean through the patio door, his face crinkling into a full grin.


	2. Chapter 2

Ruby didn’t stop laughing for long enough that Dean was seriously considering dropping his jeans and giving her that show, just to shut her up. Thankfully, he had just enough clear thought left to realize that would only make it worse. 

“She seriously tried to set you up with him?” Ruby asked, pointing from Dean to Cas and grinning with devilish delight. “That is just too precious for this world.” 

Anna shook her head, her glass of vodka apparently forgotten in her hand. She had been chewing one onion ring after another at a steady pace since Dean had come back in and been made to explain why Cas was laughing. She didn’t seem to share Ruby’s delight.

“You got an opinion, Anna?” Dean asked, because even though Cas’ boss had always made him tread a little more carefully than he did around some of their friends, she gave good advice. 

The clink of the glass as she set it down was louder than it should have been, her movements slower and more controlled. Cas’ laughter had faded back to a smile already, and now that changed to the sort of alert look he got when Anna was leading a briefing. 

“I didn’t realize this was still a secret from your mom,” Anna said. “Are you happy with it?”

Dean opened his mouth to answer before realizing that Anna was speaking to Cas, who shrugged.

“I’d prefer to be able to go around to my future mother-in-law’s house and visit properly, and keeping social media edited can be taxing, but Dean has his reasons. And he is intending to tell her.”

“Tomorrow,” Dean added in, because he didn’t like to think how this might look to Anna, who had long held the habit of protecting those who’d served under her. It was a testament to how well she’d taken care of her soldiers that Cas was even in this town for Dean to be keeping secret. “Really. I’m going to come clean about all of it.”

“What makes tomorrow different?” Anna asked.

“Well…” Actually, it had been the prospect of this date, which was off the table, now. 

“You have worked out that your mom knows you’re into men, right?” Anna went on, “She’s trying to set you up with a man. You really don’t have all that much to tell her, at this point.”

“Except the fact you’ve been in a relationship for going on two years,” Ruby added, mirth still bubbling in her voice, “without telling her. There’s that. Seriously, Jess should recruit you. You’d be a great agent. You’ve already got the hidden life down.”

Probably out of self-defense, Dean kept forgetting that Ruby knew Jess and Sam. To be fair to her, she hadn’t let anything slip, but Dean always felt a pang of worry when one of them mentioned the other’s name. 

“Yeah, not sure I could cope with the pressure,” Dean said. “But thanks. If I get bored of my job, I’ll consider it.”

“No fun,” Ruby said. “You aren’t going to get bored. Oh, well. I’ll have to indulge in a few sexy spy fantasies. Hey, you think your brother would get into the business if you did? The family that spies together and all that.”

“Sam? A spy?” Dean asked. “He’d be way too nice to the enemy spies, hug them and want to talk out their problems. He’d blow his cover in three minutes flat.”

“Be a sexy three minutes,” Ruby half grumbled. 

“She’s right,” Cas said.

“You…she…what? You think Sam would make a sexy spy?” Dean almost choked on the chip he’d just taken. 

“He probably would,” Cas allowed, as though this was a perfectly normal thing to say, “but don’t worry, Dean, he’s too tall for me. The height difference would never work. No, I meant Anna. I was so busy being amused at the mix-up that it didn’t occur to me right away, but this means your mom already knows you aren’t straight. You only have to introduce her to me, now. It really makes everything easier.”

“Yeah.” His brain had been so busy flailing around that even when Anna had pointed it out it still hadn’t quite gone in. Apparently, he’d needed to hear it in that deep, gravelly voice before it went into his mind. “Yeah, it does. Okay, new plan.”

“We had an old plan?” Cas asked. “Was it really enough to be called a plan?”

“Shut up,” Dean said, “and tell me what you think of this. We both go round to see her tomorrow. Show her the rings. Let her cry over colour schemes and button-holes with you, the whole works. Just…rip the bi band-aide right off.”

“Rip the…? Never mind. Why exactly am I the one crying over button-holes?” Cas asked.

“Well, you’re into all that,” Dean said, in defiance of Cas’ confused look. 

“Sure he is,” Ruby agreed. “That’s why he’s still not decorated his house.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the way my house looks,” Cas said, not looking away from Dean. 

“You’ve been living there for four months and your living room is still orange,” Anna said, apparently deciding the topic could move on. She picked up her glass again and took a drink, looking thoughtful. “You know, we keep saying we should have a party. I vote we have a decorating party at Cas’ place. Let’s face it, you’ll either be selling it or starting married life in it, and either way the guest room’s violent shade of pink isn’t going to work.”

“It’s not that bad,” Cas muttered, but he sounded sheepish. 

“No, that’s perfect,” Dean said. “Mom loves helping people decorate. We can invite her along, get a real family vibe going. And Sam and Jess can come, too, as long as Jess will be okay with the paint fumes. We’ll have a barbecue.”

“Which I assume you will be cooking,” Cas said, but he sounded fond rather than annoyed, so Dean took it as a win.

They hadn’t really talked yet about where they’d be living, but getting Cas’ place into something less of an eyesore couldn’t hurt, and it gave him something else to say to his mom tomorrow, instead of keeping the whole focus on his secret boyfriend and engagement. Always good to have a plan. 

 

****************************************************

 

“You’re sure she’s not going to mind me turning up?” Cas asked, for at least the tenth time, as he straightened his shirt and brushed away an invisible spec of dirt. He had that worried look on his face that made Dean want to kiss him all over. All over his face. Well. Okay. All over. 

“She’s met you before and loved you enough that she tried to set us up. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” 

Cas’ nervousness was doing a great job of blanking out Dean’s, and he’d pretty much convinced himself this would be smooth sailing. Locking the Impala, he took the lead up the driveway and to the gate at the side of the house, letting himself in and noting the side door was open. 

“She could be in the garden,” he said. “I’ll just check inside, first.”

Stepping right in to the kitchen without knocking seemed like a really bad idea when Dean saw who was sitting at the table, a mug in front of him and a small plate dotted with crumbs nearby. Dad. He looked less rumpled than the last time Dean had seen him, so there was that, and, hey, at least he wasn’t yelling or telling Dean he’d expected more of him, which was always a plus. Still, this was not something he’d factored in to this visit. Normally, John left a few more days in between swinging by, even when he was on one of his missions to get Mary back.

“Hey, Dean,” John said. “You going to hover in the doorway all afternoon?”

“No,” Dean said, just biting back the ‘sir’. Sam had yelled at his dad more than once that they were kids, not soldiers, but it hadn’t changed the way John did things, some part of him apparently never fully leaving his service behind. 

He made his way properly inside, his back prickling at the knowledge that Cas was just behind him. Telling his mom was something he’d wanted to do for ages, even though he hadn’t ever quite managed to talk himself into it, but his dad… No. He could have gone happily his whole life without letting his dad know about this, which, yeah, could be awkward with the wedding, but there you go. Even more, he did not want Cas being subjected to John’s attitude. 

Sure enough, when Cas’ stepped inside John’s eyes swung right to him, a questioning look on his face.

“This a friend of yours, Dean?” he asked.

Dean bit back the urge to pretend surprise and claim that Cas was just some stranger who had followed him in, or to pretend that he couldn’t see Cas and hope Cas thought it was funny to make out he was a ghost. Not the time. His dad had never been great with Dean’s imagination at the best of times. 

“Er. Yeah.”

He didn’t get any further before Mary arrived in the kitchen, her smile at Dean turning into something questioning but hopeful when her gaze lit on Cas.

“Dean, honey? You’ve met Castiel?”

“Er, yeah.” He really needed to find the rest of his script. This was ridiculous. 

“When did you ring him?” Mary was leaning more heavily into hopeful, with a side order of delighted, and Dean was too flustered to answer before she went on. “When did he ring you? What did he say? Oh, no. Never mind. That’s none of my business. Was it good? It must have been good if he’s already bringing you round to visit.”

Cas’ eyes widened a fraction and he leaned back, but he was clearly pleased with the reaction in some way, because Dean was still trying to work out what to say when his soon-to-be-husband straightened himself and gave one of those little, mouth twitching smiles Dean loved so much, his eyes warm crystal with happiness.

“It was the best phone call I’ve had all week.” And the thing was, Dean could tell he wasn’t even lying, even if Cas meant because it had been the funniest. “My friends haven’t been able to stop talking about it.”

Also true. Ruby was still going on about it that morning over breakfast, after Anna had talked them all into staying at hers for vodka related reasons. 

“How cute,” Mary said. Her smile faltered just a bit. “Oh. I mean, not cute. Something brave and epic.”

“No, it was cute,” Cas said, and stuck out his hand. “I know we’ve met before, but it feels like a new start. Call me Cas.”

“Cas, it is,” Mary said, grasping his hand and holding it with both of hers. “I’m Mary. This here is John, but don’t mind him. He’s just come round to tell me how well his job’s going.”

There was a slight undercurrent of ice in that statement, and Dean wondered whether Mary had already asked John to leave. One time, he hadn’t gone until Sam had turned up and thrown him out, but they’d all got used to walking the line of when to stand up to John and when to let him do what he wanted and hope to ride it out, and his mom still found it hard to give up old habits. She still hadn’t got round to making locking the door the moment she saw him approaching the automatic reaction. 

“And why are you here?” John asked. “Is Mary finding Dean friends, now?”

“A date, John,” Mary said, sharply. “Although I’ve always thought that friendship is crucial to a good relationship, so hopefully that, too. Never let attraction alone make you commit to someone, boys.”

Yep. She was pissed at his dad, and getting fairly close to the point where a full blown row would blow up. Glorious. 

“Date?” John asked.

Mary’s whole face locked up, her skin paling.

“Oh, shit,” she said. “You hadn’t come out to your dad, yet, had you? I am so sorry, Dean. I would never… I mean, I didn’t mean… Shit.”

“Mom,” Dean said, suddenly getting his voice back, even though he did feel like he’d stepped into some unreal dimension, “I haven’t come out to you, yet.”

That threw her.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dean. Of course you did. When we were at the Lake last summer, you talked about that date you’d been on with a guy to that military museum.”

Had he? He had hazy memories of talking about his trip to the museum, yeah, but he couldn’t remember ever calling it a date. Had he even specified who he was with? 

“I never said that was a date,” he got out, but it bugged him that he couldn’t quite remember.

“Dean, sweetheart, you spent forty minutes of the fifty minutes you talked about it describing what your ‘friend’ looked like, whether they liked things, what they thought about everything. Until now it didn’t even occur to me you hadn’t outright called it a date.”

And there was Ruby’s Dean-the-spy idea flattened even further. He couldn’t even hide his sexuality. And didn’t realize when he’d blown his cover.

Another thought hit him.

“Wait. Sam was there. Are you saying…?”

“Why did you think Sam kept inviting his single work-friends out when you meet for a drink?”

“He brings women sometimes,” Dean protested.

“Well, yes,” Mary said. “You’ve dated women before. We didn’t want to limit your options.”

Which made it all too clear that him mom and his baby brother had been setting him up on blind dates with men and women and he hadn’t even fucking noticed.

“Exactly how many are we talking about, Dean?” Cas asked, his poker face almost perfect. 

“You know what, it doesn’t matter,” Dean said. “It doesn’t matter, because neither of you have to set me up with anyone ever again.” He grabbed Cas’ free hand, ending up in a weird communal hand-holding chain, but Cas didn’t seem overly bothered that he had hold of two Winchesters. “No more dates, because we got engaged.”

Finally, Mary looked confused.

“Already?”

Dean was spared from answering by the sound of a chair hitting the ground, and he turned around to see John standing with a scowl etched across his face.

“Engaged?” he demanded. “You haven’t even had the decency to tell us you’re into men and you’ve popped the question to one? And exactly how long have you known each other?”

“John, you will watched your tone in this house,” Mary said.

Dean could see that she was gripping Cas’ hands harder, and Cas, to his credit, was making no move to pull away, even if this had to be one of the most awkward engagement announcements of all time. 

“I will watch my tone when your son watches his manners!” John shouted. “How am I supposed to be reacting?”

“You weren’t supposed to be here,” Dean snapped, taking a half step and putting himself between his mom and his dad. 

“Oh, right,” John said, derisive. “So you were going to leave me in the dark, still? Classy, Dean. Real classy. Your own father doesn’t deserve to know his son’s-”

“To know his son’s what, Dad?” 

Dean felt himself pulled back and looked round to see Cas disentangle his hand from Mary’s at the same time that he let go of Dean’s. For a moment, Dean panicked. This was it. Cas was finally seeing what a mess things were and was going to walk. 

Instead, Cas settled into a stance with his feet apart and his shoulders back, his chin up so that he suddenly looked taller than John.

“Perhaps we should continue this another time,” he said, the steadiness of his voice a warning to Dean at least that this was not a time to mess with Cas. “When you are calmer.”

For a moment, Dean thought he was going to introduce the love of his life to his parents, find out he’d outed himself the year before and watch his dad punch his future husband all within a few minutes of each other, but John, apparently winning some internal battle with himself, grumbled something Dean couldn’t make out and stopped to pick up his jacket from the back of the chair, where it now lay on the floor. Moments later, John was gone, the garden gate banging loudly.

“Okay,” Mary said, after they’d all stood in silence for a while. “Right then. You, sit down. I’ll make us drinks, and then you can tell me how excellent I am at finding you someone, with special attention paid to the whole ‘being engaged’ part.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going somewhere. I promise.

Dean threw himself at his couch from partway across the room, hugging a throw-cushion to his chest as soon as he landed and burying his face in it. 

Behind him, he heard Cas moving about the room, dropping something in the bowl by the door, probably his keys, and the sounds of shoes being taken off and a coat being hung up. A few minutes after Dean landed face-down he felt Cas tap at his legs, and shuffled around enough for his fiance to slide onto the couch and rearrange Dean’s lower legs until he was apparently satisfied. The gentle stroking of a hand up and down his calf pulled some of the tension out of him, and he was staring to drift when Cas finally spoke.

“So, that went well. Apart from the hundreds of blind dates you’ve been on. And facing off with your father. And this wonderful date you apparently went on to a museum. A pity I wasn’t there.”

“I was going to tell her,” Dean muttered, his words muffled by the pillow. “Hell, I tried to tell her, but you saw how she’d got.”

“She does seem singularly pleased to have found you a husband,” Cas agreed. “Has she perhaps mixed you up with one of Austen’s heroines? Wait.” Cas’ hand stopped stroking and gripped at Dean’s leg, as though he really was having a moment of shocked realization. “Has she asked you how much I’m worth a year?”

Snorting, Dean twisted around until he was on his back, his feet in Cas’ lap and his hands resting on his stomach. Cas looked genuinely concerned. The bastard. 

“Pretty sure she knows we’re not in oldy times England.”

The sigh of relief was a bit overdone, but then Cas had just had a trying experience with meeting his future in-laws for the first time, so Dean supposed he had to give him points for a good effort under the circumstances.

“That’s good,” Cas said, leaning slightly sideways as though offering a confidence. “I’m not sure I’d do so well at asking your father’s permission for your hand.”

“Cas, man,” Dean said, lifting his hands to cover his face and groaning into them. “I am so sorry-”

“Dean,” Cas said, sounding firm, and Dean felt the couch move, felt his hands being tugged down until he could see Cas leaning over him. “You do not have to apologize for anyone else’s behaviour.” He held Dean’s eyes long enough that Dean had to nod, and then a tiny smile tugged at the corner of Cas’ mouth. “But if you keep groaning like that, you will have to be responsible for my reaction.”

Torn between laughing and rolling his eyes, Dean picked Option 3 and pulled Cas down into a kiss.

 

**************************************************

 

Dean ignored his phone the first five times it buzzed, but by the sixth he’d completely lost the sleepy peace of half-dreaming and his bladder was making itself known. Cursing and grumbling, he threw back the covers and stumbled to the bathroom, snagging his phone from the top of the dresser as he headed back to bed. It wasn’t like he had to be up for work today, Cas would have left for work while Dean was still out and wouldn’t be back until later, and Dean had every intention of making this a quick trip to the land of the conscious.

Huh. Six messages from Sam.

As he scrolled through the orders to phone, more capital letters and exclamation marks with each one, until the last one was all caps with, wow, eight exclamation marks and some sort of bracket, the phone buzzed again. This time it was a call.

“Hey, Sam,” he said, leaning back against his pillows and not bothering to stifle a yawn. “What’s got you over-eager to talk?”

“Why does Mom think she got you and Cas together?” Sam asked, skipping any form of greeting.

“What?” 

“Cas.” Sam sounded like he was barely managing to avoid telling Dean to get with the picture. “Why does she think she introduced the two of you? You didn’t think it worth mentioning you’ve been together for ages? I mean, it’s going to come out at the wedding. You just know the speeches will bring up something the two of you have got up to. Ruby’s going to be there, I’m assuming, so you’d better start working out how to head her off before she gives a speech about any kinky sex she thinks you’ve been having.”

“You…? Huh?” Dean sat up again, rubbing his eyes and trying to catch up. His brain seemed to have got stuck in sludge. “Slow down, Sam. You’ve talked to Mom? And she’s told you about Cas and me getting engaged? She’s told you about Cas?”

It felt weird to say that. He wasn’t sure how much was just getting used to the being engaged part and how much was knowing it was Sam he was saying it to, and as far as he knew Sam had only met Cas a few times and had been under the impression that he was firmly in the ‘friend’ box.

“Yes,” his brother said. “Congratulations, by the way. And on coming out officially to Mom. Were you planning on letting me know, or was it going to be a surprise for the wedding?”

“I’d have told you before then!” Dean said, stung. 

“It took you long enough to tell me you were into men.”

Dean winced. 

“Yeah. About that…”

Sam snorted, a sound that should have been hilarious but which managed to make Dean feel judged.

“Yeah. Mom told me about that, too. God, I set you up on so many dates and you didn’t even know they were dates? No wonder Aaron said you were weird with him.”

Something was bugging Dean. He ran his mind back over the conversation and tried to pin it down, resting his forehead in his hands as he waited for the more sluggish parts of his brain to wake up, at least a little. 

“You set me up on dates,” he said slowly.

“Yes. And come on, don’t be mad at me. I thought you knew that I knew. I thought I was helping. I mean, you didn’t tell me you didn’t want a date, and you spent six hours waxing lyrical about dating that one time.”

“What one time?”

“When we went on our mini-roadtrip to see Uncle Bobby. It was all you’d talk about, the whole way.”

Ah. He…kind of remembered something like that. It’d been a few weeks after he’d met Cas, and he did recall now that it was just after that trip that Sam had started bringing women from work out for drinks a lot. The men hadn’t turned up until after that trip to the lake. 

“You thought I was asking you to set me up?”

“Well. Yeah.” Sam sounded less certain now. “You never ask for things outright. I figured you were just being, you know, you about it. And then when you came out… Well, when you accidentally came out and we thought you’d actually come out, I figured it made sense to broaden the pool, you know. I still don’t get why you didn’t tell me about Cas, though.”

“Sam, I need about three buckets of coffee and at least ten minutes under a shower. You want to meet up?”

Maybe by the time he was ready to meet Sam, he’d have managed to escape entirely from the last of the sleep lurking around his mind. 

“Er. Yeah. Sure. I can do an early lunch. Say, an hour? I’ll get the open bacon sandwich for you if I’m there first.”

“How well you know me, Sammy,” Dean said, and winced at how true that was turning out to be without Dean even having been aware of it. 

He really did feel a lot better for a shower, but it wasn’t until his third mug of coffee that he realised what exactly had been bugging him about Sam’s comments.

 

***********************************************

 

“You knew about Cas before yesterday.”

Dean threw the words at Sam in a flat statement before even sitting down, and Sam looked up at him, his hair falling over his face and his mug most of the way to his lips, with an expression of such confusion that Dean almost apologized, even if he didn’t really know what for.

“Good to see you, too,” Sam said, as though he hadn’t launched right in on the phone earlier. “I got you a coffee.”

“Thanks.” Dean dropped into the seat and pulled his mug closer to him, even though he’d probably had enough caffeine already to consider exceeding the warp barrier. “But back to the point. You already knew about Cas. When? How? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s complicated,” Sam said.

“Uncomplicate it!”

Sam pulled a face and ran a hand through his hair. Always with the hair. Give Dean five minutes and a pair of scissors and then the hair thing would be done with. 

“Look, I honestly thought you’d told us you were bi, all right? But then, after months of trying to find you a date that’d stick, because I thought you’d done the Dean version of asking me to, it was made clear to me that you had a boyfriend and just hadn’t decided to mention him, yet. So I thought I’d wait until you told me.”

“At least you were waiting for me to tell you something,” Dean muttered. 

“Yes,” Sam said. “And now I’m waiting for you to tell Mom that she did not hook you up with a husband overnight. Why didn’t you just tell her yesterday? I mean, the hard part was done. Wasn’t it?” 

“I don’t know,” Dean said. “She just seemed so happy, and she was down and tense after Dad showed up again the other day, and then she wouldn’t stop talking long enough to really build up to it, and then it just…kind of…didn’t get said.”

“You’re useless,” Sam said. “Seriously. How did you manage to propose to Cas? Or didn’t you? Did you just say something about wanting a husband near him and he took that to be a proposal?”

“No. Sam. I proposed, all right?”

Their food arrived, the waiter smiling and setting down their plates with maybe more flourishing than was necessary. Dean squinted up at him until the young man blushed and left.

“You see,” Sam said, picking up his knife and fork and moving his salad garnish around until it had achieved whatever weird arrangement he wanted it to be in, “it really shouldn’t be a surprise to me that we got our wires crossed. That guy was flirting with you, and you just glared at him like you were wondering if he’d poisoned our meals.”

“Or,” Dean countered, using his own knife to lift the tomato up enough from the top of his food to check he’d got a good helping of bacon, “maybe he was flirting to throw us off the fact he’s poisoned our food. Your food, anyway. How do you know it’s not some plot to get at Jess?” 

Sam stared at him for a moment, frowned, and inspected his plate more closely. For a while, it looked like he was actually taking Dean seriously, but then he shrugged and forked up a mouthful. 

They ate in silence for long enough that Dean had time to go back over yesterday and this morning in his mind and start to feel foolish. God, he couldn’t even come out right, or introduce his fiance to his mom without it getting tangled up. Would his mom be upset now when he told her that she hadn’t found him Cas? 

“We should both go round later,” Sam said.

“Round where?” Dean asked.

“To Mom’s. I can nudge you if you slide away from the topic, or something. Anyway, she wants me to take a look at some papers for her. I’ve an appointment after this, but we could meet there at, say, four? Will Cas be able to come?”

Dean shook his head and swallowed his latest bite of sandwich.

“Nah. He’s at work all day. But look, I don’t need my baby brother sitting next to me, holding my hand, just to talk to my own mom, okay?”

Sam gave him a measured look, the kind that added at least another half of a conversation to what was being said.

“Right. Well, I’m going round for about four, in any case. It’d be good to see you there. It’s not like we’ve hung out just the three of us for a while, and you know how Mom likes that.”

Which was emotional blackmail, was what it was. Damn him. Dean wasn’t going to let Sam know how effective it was, though. Not right away. No, for a at least a few hours he was going to maintain the illusion that his brother hadn’t had any effect in him at all.

“I’m sure she’ll enjoy your visit,” Dean said, smiling widely at Sam’s narrowed eyes. “And thanks for lunch. But, you know, wedding to plan. Charlie tells me that’ll be a big job, so I’d best get on and get started.”

And he swung himself up from his seat, made a point of winking at the waiter, who flushed and ducked his head, and tried to think of anything you needed to do to plan a wedding. 

 

****************************************************************

 

“I’m still not sure that I’m the best choice for this,” Anna said, standing a few feet from Dean with her hands in the pockets of her black coat, her red hair looking especially burnished under the lights of the bakery. “I expected you to ask Charlie to help you with your wedding planning.”

“You trying to get out of this mission?” Dean asked, but he smiled as he said it. Anna sounded honestly perplexed.

“I just want to make sure this is what you want,” Anna said. 

Dean left the display of cake stands and turned his full attention to Anna. 

“Hey. When it comes to organizing, Charlie is awesome, but you’ve more than enough experience with carrying out plans under intense pressure.”

It was Anna’s turn to smile.

“Yes, Dean, but a wedding isn’t exactly a military op.”

“Nah. This is way more important.” He set a hand on each of her shoulders and felt a pulse of affection as she stared up at him with those huge eyes of hers. “Besides, you know Cas. You can kick me if I steer towards something he’d hate. And this is the cake, Anna. You know how important the cake is.”

Her lips twitched at that. 

“When you put it like that,” she allowed, “I suppose it is important you have a highly trained professional for the job. Even if the profession is nothing to do with cake.”

They were stopped from any further chat about why Dean had asked Anna along when the door behind the counter opened and a man stepped out, his dark hair and serious face catching Dean’s eye. He was a good looking guy, Dean had to give him that, but he looked like he’d seen enough of the world and hadn’t the patience to deal with stupidity on any level. Perhaps this hadn’t been the best place to come. 

“Hi,” Anna said, before Dean could. Dean caught the look on her face, the one that said she was assessing and considering. If she got any bad vibes from this, she’d let him know. Anna was never shy about calling people out, whether they wanted to hear it or not. 

At the greeting, the man looked up and smiled, and his whole face changed. Suddenly, it was warm and earnest. Still serious, but Dean now felt this was someone who’d take the duty of making a cake for a hugely important day to heart. 

“Good afternoon,” the man said, rounding the counter and holding out his hand. “You must be Mr Winchester?”

“Yeah.” Dean took his hand and smiled back, relaxing more. “Call me Dean. This here’s Anna. Er. We good to try some cake?”

“Of course. If you’ll come through to the next room, we’ll be assured of the peace we need to consider the matter properly.”

He had a solid, measured way of talking. Not bad, but not exactly usual, either. Dean wondered if English was his first language, but there was no accent he could pick up on. Not that he was an expert or anything. 

Once they were seated at a small table in the next room, which turned out to be decorated in shades of cream and duck-egg blue accents (and Dean might sometimes watch the odd show about interior design, but Sam was never going to know), the man sat down opposite Dean and Anna and pulled out a sketch book.

“I’m Gadreel,” he said, “and I will be honoured to bake your cake, as long as we find we work well together. I have found weddings can be stressful times and it is vital to surround yourself with people you can really trust. I hope to be that person for you. Now, what kind of cake did you have in mind?”

Realizing that both of them were looking at him, Dean cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, rubbing one hand along his thigh as he tried to get his thoughts in order. Wedding cakes were just…big cakes, weren’t they? Wasn’t saying ‘wedding cake’ enough of a clue.

“Um,” he said. Which, really intelligent Dean. Gadreel would have a load to work with, right there.

Anna took pity on him, leaning over slightly and flattening his hand with hers. It was the sort of grounding touch she sometimes used on Cas, when he was getting worked up about something, and Dean felt touched that she would offer the same to him.

“Something classic. Clean,” she said. “Strong lines are good, and there’s no need for anything over the top with decoration. I saw one the other day with square cakes and some sort of…drapery down one side. And sugar flowers, but large. Stylized. That was good.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, Anna’s words jolting the blank of his mind into action, which she’d no doubt counted on. She was a good tactician, was Anna. “Yeah, clean and simple. Not sure about anything draping, though.”

“Why don’t you give me some idea of the sort of designs you like in other areas of your life?” Gadreel asked. “I can perhaps work on that.”

“The Impala,” Dean said, at once. “Strong, classic lines, right there. Er.”

“Take your time,” Gadreel said, “I have booked two hours for you, to start with. It is important we get this right for you.”

And for the next forty minutes Dean did nothing but describe what he liked, and what Cas liked, to the baker, with Anna dropping in the occasional suggestion. Dean smiled each time she did, and she patted his hand. It was so much easier doing this with someone who was calm. He’d run any designs by Cas before agreeing, but Dean was thinking bringing someone not actually getting married on each visit would keep the stress down.

Finally, once they’d given Gadreel so much information that three pages of his sketch book were full of notes, they got around to the cake itself. Gadreel brought out taster slices of so many types of cake that Dean almost regretted going to lunch with Sam first. Almost. 

“What’s this one again?” he asked, ignoring Anna’s slight frown when he talked with his mouth full.

“Chocolate hazlenut,” Gadreel said. “Would you like me to add it to the list? So far we have pistachio, vanilla, chocolate and fruit cake.”

It went on until the two hours was up and Dean was starting to think he’d eaten enough cake to last him until at least the wedding day. Finally, they were shaking hands and bidding Gadreel farewell, and Dean grinned to himself again at how his thought patterns wanted to mimic the guy’s more formal method of speech.

“I will contact you in a few days, once I have designs for you to view,” Gadreel said, and he took Anna’s hands after Dean’s, smiling warmly down at her. “I want the cake to be as beautiful as the bride.”

Anna’s eyes widened slightly, and Dean was so shocked he didn’t manage to correct the guy in time. He was going to. He really was. It was just that a shorter man bustled past at that moment, smirking at the pair of them as though they were hilarious, and Gadreel nodded and followed him. The next customer. It would be rude to burst in on the start of the next appointment just to correct him. 

“I’ll tell him when I bring Cas to look at the designs,” he said. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell him who you were marrying when you booked the appointment,” Anna said.

“I thought I did,” Dean protested. “But let’s face it, the way my life’s going right now I’m impressed I managed to book a cake date at all and didn’t accidentally organize a parade.”

Anna laughed and patted his arm.

“I’m sure it would be a wonderful parade. I’m meeting Ruby at the range. You want to come with?”

“Nah. I…er. I’m going to drop by and see Mom again. Maybe this time I can convince her she didn’t set me up with Cas.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

Mary pulled Dean into the kitchen as soon as he arrived, bustling him through the kitchen and into the living room, where Sam sat on the couch balancing a tiny tea-cup in his hands. 

“Did you shrink all your cups in the wash?” he asked.

Sam pulled a face at him and took an exaggerated sip from his drink. It was the best thing Dean had seen all month.

“No, Dean.” Mary handed him his own tiny cup, the sides painted with roses, and settled herself next to Sam. She looked at Dean until he took the armchair. “These are my first idea for your wedding.”

“First idea?” Dean looked again at the cup. It was pretty enough. Delicate, gold rim, pretty colours. “My wedding?”

“They don’t plan themselves,” Mary said. “And I thought, tea and cake. Cas likes those.”

“He does?”

Mary nodded.

“I went round to see Norma this morning. She’s as thrilled as I am that the two of you have hit it off. I had my concerns yesterday, about how quickly you were moving, but Norma reminded me that life is short, and anyway it takes time to plan a wedding, so you can have a long engagement and get to know each other. And that means we can take plenty of time with the planning. Weddings can take well over a year to organize, you know. It’s a good job neither of you needs a wedding dress.”

“Jess had to order hers months before the day,” Sam piped up. He pulled a ‘What? I’m helping!’ face at Dean.

“Yeah, well maybe Cas wants a dress,” Dean said, and then heard what he’d said. 

“If he does, then we’ll get him one,” Mary said, proving to Dean once again that he really couldn’t have a better mother. “But I also talked with Norma about Cas a little bit, and she said how he always likes the cakes she gives him, and he’s always happy to pop round for a cup of tea.”

The tea part made sense. Cas did like tea, even if he also liked coffee and actually drank more of it, but the cake? Dean didn’t quite have the heart to tell him mom that Cas took Norma’s cake to the park and fed it to the ducks. And they were starting to turn it down, from what Cas had told him. Cas just didn’t have the heart to tell her how dire her baking was. 

“Er. Norma isn’t wanting to bake our cake, is she?” 

“No! Well, maybe. But I had a brilliant idea about that.” Mary looked so happy that Dean found himself mentally tearing up all of his plans to get a cake from Gadreel, even though every bite he’d tried had been divine. “We’ll make the annual cake-off wedding themed, and the winner can make your cake. What do you think?”

“The cake-off isn’t for months,” Dean tried, because he was apparently suffering from some illness that meant he couldn’t just come out and say things to his mom these days. 

“Yes,” Mary said happily, “which will give everyone plenty of time to work out a great cake for you and Cas. What’s his favourite flavour? Oh, what am I saying. You probably don’t know yet.”

Sam set his cup down on the coffee table and shot Dean such a glare that Dean actually jumped.

“Okay!” At Mary’s startled expression, he turned to her and ran through about five expressions before settling on something he hoped was at least a bit contrite. But in a confident, loving way. “I didn’t just meet Cas. I met him ages ago. When I rang that number, it was a real shock to hear his voice.”

There. He’d told her. Job done. He sat back, relieved, and waited for her reaction.

She sat for a while without saying anything, and Dean was starting to get worried when she nodded and reached forward for his hand. He gave it to her.

“I got carried away and didn’t really listen to you, did I?” she asked. “I am so sorry, Dean.”

“Hey, Mom, no. No. You’ve been great. Really. I need to do a better job of being clear with people.” Dean squeezed his mom’s hand and tried to push as much love and apology into it as he could. She’d always said you should squeeze the love into people. 

“Well, in that case, we’re both sorry and we’re both forgiven, right?” Mary put her cup down and stretched her now free hand out to Sam. “But the important thing is that I’m here with my boys, you both have someone special in your lives, and you are going to have the best damn wedding anyone has ever had. Ever.”

“Sure, Mom,” Dean said. “But…you are going to tell Norma, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes,” Mary assured him. “I’d better do that today. She’s already started working on a banner for your wedding and she’ll be upset if it says the wrong thing.”

Dean would be upset if he had to hang up anything made by Norma at his wedding, but they could always disappear it later. No need to upset anyone, now. 

“If that’s sorted,” Sam said, “do you want to show me those papers, Mom? You said they might help with tracing another branch?”

When Mary went to fetch the papers from another room, Sam shook his head at Dean. 

“What? I told her.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, “but you didn’t tell her to back off with the bake-off plan, and you only have until she tells Jess. Once they both get in on it you’ll have better luck unsinking the Titanic than you will getting to pick your own cake.”

Dean shrugged.

“It’s only cake, Sam,” he said. “It’s not like it’s going to shake up anybody’s world.”

Sam still looked dubious when Mary came back into the room, the papers in her hand and her phone held to her ear.

“Yes,” she was saying, “That’s what I thought. I’m so glad you think the same. Absolutely. I’ll tell him. No. Don’t worry. He’s right here, anyway. I’ll see you, then.”

She dropped the papers in Sam’s hands and pointed at him with the phone.

“Jess loves the cake idea,” she said, “and she’s coming round here for tea, so you can stay and work on those and we’ll get brainstorming cakes. Do you want to ask Cas to come round, too, Dean, and join in?”

“Cas won’t be finished with work until something stupid,” Dean said, “and I should probably ease him in to meeting you all. Next time?”

He ignored Sam’s pointed look. If his mom had already told Jess, it would make it harder to get out of, but Cas had never seemed overly bothered by cake, anyway. If it made his mom and Jess happy, then why not let them take care of it? Like he’d told Sam, cake never changed a person’s life.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas stopped partway across his kitchen with a dish held in both hands. Dean considered making grabbing motions to get the dish, and Cas, moving again, but the way Cas seemed to have shut down made him think that wasn’t a good idea. At last, Cas seemed to reboot.

“Your mother?” Cas said.

“Well, yeah.” Dean shrugged. “I mean, why not, right? She seemed really excited, and it’s not like it’s important. We’ll have other desert, too.”

“Your mother,” Cas said, again. He seemed to be stuck on it. “Designing and making our cake. Your mother.”

Maybe Cas was more bothered about this than Dean had expected. He’d never said he was all that bothered about cake. Really, if Cas was going to expect Dean to know these things, he was going to have to give Dean a list of things that were off limits. The cake was hardly going to be the only thing his mom wanted to get in on. Sam and Jess had staged strategic planning sessions where they threw his mom stuff they didn’t care about so they could get on with the good stuff. That was why their invitation cards had been so… Well, put it this way: Dean hadn’t even known you could get wedding invitations with hunting images on them, and the words, something about Jess having hunted down her prey, had almost been vetoed. Then Jess had started laughing and the cards had passed.

Cas lowered his hands, apparently setting the dish down. Onto nothing.

Leaving his chair behind, Dean made it in time to catch the dish and whip it away to the table. Cas’ roast potatoes did not deserve to end up on the floor. Cas was still standing with his hands apart when Dean looked back.

“Hey, Cas, come on. Come and sit down. It’s not that bad, all right? It’s just cake.”

“It’s your mother, and your brother’s… Dean, this is our wedding cake. And they are designing… Do you have any idea…?”

“If you want me to have any idea you’re going to have to get to the end of a sentence,” Dean said, going back and guiding Cas by his shoulders.

Cas sat down heavily, the chair squeaking a little along the floor. Unusual for Cas. He normally moved so lightly. 

Dean brought the rest of the food over and dished up, making sure to give Cas both wings as well as some of the chicken breast. He actually liked the fiddly things.

“Okay, so, I get now that you aren’t all right with it. I don’t get why, but I’m sorry. What do you want us to do?”

“What can we do? It’ll upset your mother if we tell her she can’t make the cake.” Cas sounded almost forlorn, as though some great chance had been snatched from him. “I really wanted a photograph of a beautiful cake.”

“Hey, it might still be beautiful!”

But Dean couldn’t stay offended for long, not as memories of past cakes filed across his mind. His mom could bake, no doubt about it, but the decorating… And Jess… She could decorate, but they were so elaborate. Not Cas’ kind of thing at all. Well, Cas was right. Letting them do it was waving goodbye to a photograph of the kind of cake Cas would want. 

“Yeah. Point taken,” Dean said. He wondered what else Cas had his heart set on. After they ate, it might be a good idea to drag out all those wedding magazines their friends had been giving them and go through them, talk over what they actually wanted. Dean hated wearing a tux, but what if Cas had dreamed of a wedding in a tux since he was a tiny boy or something?

“Let’s just eat,” Cas said.

Dean did just that, but he kept flicking glances at Cas, trying to see if he was okay. Whatever the cake news had shut down in his head seemed to be staying shut down. Dean managed not to sigh. Cas got like this sometimes. He’d no idea if it was something he’d always done or something from his time serving, but sometimes Cas just…went somewhere in his head, or something, and Dean had to wait until the guy wandered back to him. At times, a grounding touch, like the one Anna had shown him, helped Cas to come back faster, but it didn’t always work. Hopefully, today would be one of the times when Cas was only gone for a little bit.

Sure enough, by the time the food was gone, Cas was back with him. They settled in to watch a film, something ridiculous with alligators that turned into farmers or something, in a companionable enough silence. Still, Dean was sure there was more to Cas’ reaction than he’d been told. 

“You want to tell me?” he asked, stroking his forefinger along Cas’ temple and down the side of his face. He turned his head just enough to press a kiss to Cas’ head, the hair tickling his nose. 

Cas still had his eyes on the screen, but the weren’t moving. It was likely he hadn’t taken in any of the film, not even the scene when two alligators got the police officer and played tug with him, and that scene was comedy gold. Dean was planning on making Charlie watch it, and Ruby. Ruby would love it. 

“Tell you what?” Cas asked, still sounding subdued.

“Why the cake bothers you so much. Hey, hey, no.” Dean shifted as Cas pulled away, curling himself at the other end of the settee and staring back at Dean. “No criticism. I want to understand. And I want to know what else really matters to you about this wedding. We’re planning it together, right?”

Cas pressed his lips together. Dean was about to say they could drop it when Cas answered.

“We are. Planning it together.” He looked away and spoke to his hands. “I guess I thought you’d order a cake, like you said. So I didn’t need to say anything. You said you’d had a place recommended.”

“Well, yeah,” Dean said. “By more than one person. And his stuff is awesome. Really.”

“It is?” Cas looked hopeful, his voice lilting up at the end.

“Yeah. I took Anna with me today. Talked about some ideas. He’s going to ring me when he’s got something worked out he thinks we’ll like.”

Cas’ brow wrinkled.

“Then why-?”

“Because after that I went round and Mom got carried away. Yeah. I know. She’s making a habit of it. I swear, she is not normally like this.”

Cas nodded and looked back at Dean, and at least he was looking less drawn into himself.

“Maybe your father turning up has thrown her. She could need the distraction.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “I know. So… I mean…”

“So, you want to let her plan a cake,” Cas said. A fond look crossed his face, and he shuffled closer to Dean. “You really are very sweet, Dean Winchester.”

“Really?” Dean asked, relieved the mood had changed. He still needed to ask Cas more about this, to check they were on the same page with everything, but right now Cas had a look on his face that did not say talking was part of the plan. “How sweet?”

“Let’s find out.”

Cas was smiling as his mouth met Dean’s.

 

***************************************************************

 

Dean was on his second mug of coffee the next morning, blinking sleepily in the pool of light falling across him from Cas’ kitchen window, when a round face wearing a grin looked in at him.

“Jesus…!”

He just caught himself from falling off the chair, luke-warm coffee splashing over his hand and wrist as he jerked part way to his feet. Cas had paper towels over on the unit, but before he could get one the face was joined by a hand, tapping at the window. As soon as he looked up, the grin grew and the hand gestured something Dean took to be an instruction to open the kitchen door. 

“Cas!” he yelled over his shoulder. Rivulets of coffee ran across his skin and dripped onto the table. “Cas, there’s a woman at your window! She wants to come in! What do I do?”

The sound of bedsprings, of feet hitting the floor, and of grumbling, announced Cas had heard him. The man himself arrived in the kitchen seconds later, having more or less fallen down the stairs by the sounds of it, his eyes looking nearly glued together.

“Hey, you in there, Cas?” Dean asked, torn between confusion about the woman, who was now waving at Cas and pointing at the door again, and amusement at Cas’ bleary expression. 

“Mphphnn,” Cas replied, glaring in roughly the direction of the window with his eyes almost closed. 

Dean could only see the tiniest sliver of blue under the lashes and the way Cas’ forehead was creased didn’t make it a sure thing the guy knew where he was or what was going on. 

“Cas. Just…just nod if it’s okay to let her in. All right?”

That was probably a nod. Or Cas was falling back asleep while standing up. In any case, the woman was still tapping and waving and smiling and Dean needed his coffee in him, not on him, before he could cope with this. In the absence of further information, he crossed the kitchen, shaking his still damp hand free of as much liquid as he could, and unbolted the door.

As soon as he had it open a crack, the woman pushed into the kitchen, smiling fit to burst, and hoisted a huge canvas bag over to the table.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Dean,” she said, an accent Dean didn’t quite recognize colouring her words. “I want you both to see these. It is Dean, isn’t it? You haven’t been getting up to anything, Castiel?”

Cas answered by swaying slightly on his feet.

“Er. Yeah. I’m Dean.” It seemed like someone should take part in this conversation, other than the woman. “I’m sorry, but I don’t…”

It was a bit awkward to tell some random woman he didn’t know who she was, especially when he was still in his boxers. 

“Don’t be silly, Dean,” the woman said. “No need to apologise. I was so happy when your mum told me the two of you had hit it off. Really, it’s a good job someone’s getting some romance, if you know what I mean.”

A light-bulb in Dean’s head gave out a faint light. 

“Norma?” 

“You see, you do know who I am.” She somehow managed to bustle while standing still, rearranging the bag and patting its sides. “I thought it’d be a good idea to get right on with this. Get cracking. Early bird and all that. I didn’t get you out of bed, did I?” She paused, her grin changing slightly as she flushed. “Oh. Well, now don’t I feel sheepish? I did get you out of bed, didn’t I? Both of you?”

“No. No,” Dean hastened to reassure her. Or him. He wasn’t sure. “No, I was already up.”

“Well, it’s a good job one of you’s an early riser,” Norma said. “Castiel here doesn’t open his curtains until the afternoon when he’s not working.” She winked at Cas, who blinked back. “Not that I blame you. If I could find a bloke half as good looking as either of you… But, anyway, shall we put some coffee on and get on with it?”

“Um.” Cas managed. 

Dean nearly applauded. That was almost a word.

“Be a love and put two sugars in mine,” Norma added, and effectively tuned Dean out as she pulled bits of fabric and ribbon and God knew what else out of the bag. 

Dean opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, gave up, and crossed the kitchen to make fresh coffee. Behind him, he heard Cas clear his throat.

“Norma?” Cas asked. “Why are you in my kitchen at…I didn’t even know this time existed on a Sunday. It should be illegal for this time to exist on a Sunday.”

“Nonsense,” Norma said. “Best time of the day. Well, at least until Wine O’Clock, eh? But we should stick to coffee for now. Come on. Sit down and tell me what you think of this.”

The sound of a chair scraping across the tiles suggested Cas was following instructions.

“It’s stripy,” Cas said, sounding less than impressed. “Am I supposed to be thinking anything else about it? Does it have a hidden message?”

And…Dean needed to get coffee into Cas before there was an international incident. He’d just about placed Norma’s accent at British, but it wasn’t like most British accents he’d heard on the T.V. Either way, he was pretty sure Britain wouldn’t be best pleased if one of their people was smeared messily over a kitchen in Kansas by a grumpy ex-soldier. 

“Hey,” he said, turning and seeing more pieces of fabric over the table than could possibly be necessary. Some of them had giant butterflies on them in neon yellow. “Cas, why don’t you go and get some clothes on? I’ll keep Norma company.”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” she said. For a moment, Dean thought she meant they should both stay hanging round in just their boxers, but she went on after laying a piece of something gauzy and soft-grey on the table. “You both pop up and get dressed. I can wait.”

So far, waiting wasn’t exactly coming across as her strong suit, but Dean managed a smile and more or less dragged Cas out of his chair and up the stairs. By the time they got to Cas’ bedroom, the guy was at least a little more awake. At the very least, he was managing to focus on Dean.

“Mind telling me what this is about?” Dean asked, his voice hushed. His mom had said something about Norma being a teacher in a previous job and Dean was not risking that she could overhear him from downstairs. Teachers had weird hearing. 

Cas shrugged.

“She wants to wake me up before God’s even awake to show me bits of cloth. Why’d you expect me to get what’s going on?”

Dean let it go and threw on his jeans and top as quickly as he could, freshening up in the bathroom as Cas grumbled round his bedroom, bumping into things. At least some of that had to be put on. It was probably some Cas way of showing Norma he wasn’t happy she was in his home…by bruising his own hips on his dresser or something.

“You about ready?” Dean asked, sticking his head back into the bedroom to see Cas sitting on the end of his bed regarding a pair of yellow socks with suspicion. 

“I don’t remember buying these,” Cas said.

“Yeah, well, unless the sock fairy left them or they grew out of sock seeds in the drawer, it’s the most likely explanation, so put them on your feet and get back downstairs. I’m not dealing with this on my own.”

Down in the kitchen, Dean found that Norma had finished setting out cloth and was now draping bits of ribbon in between the various pieces of fabric. She thanked him when he poured her a mug of sweet coffee and took it from him without looking away from her task. 

“I’m thinking something subtle,” she said, as though they were already in the middle of a conversation. “Stylish. I bet the both of you dress up nicely. What do you think of this?”

She held up a piece of fabric and some ribbon and Dean stared at it. He had no clue what he was meant to say. From over his shoulder Cas’ voice broke in.

“I have an old plate that colour. It’s from the 80s. Why do you want us to dress up as old plates?”

“It’s sea-foam,” Norma corrected, not sounding at all put out. “And the ribbon’s just a shade darker. It’d be for the trim.”

“Hang on,” Dean said. “The trim on what?”

Norma’s smile slipped just a bit at that, but it rallied and climbed back up her face.

“Well, for your wedding suits, of course. When Mary rang about making the cake she mentioned how cute it would be if we all pitched in and had a home-made wedding for you. After all, we did get the two of you together, so it’s already halfway there!”

Dean could feel Cas’ glare burrowing a hole through the back of his skull. 

 

****************************************************************

 

“It’s not funny!” Dean protested, as Ruby cackled over on the settee. 

“Oh, it’s a little bit funny,” she said. “And I just bet Cas is delighted.”

“Cas has gone to talk to a tree or something,” Dean said, trying and likely failing to avoid sounding morose. 

Cas had said he understood, and that he knew it wasn’t Dean’s fault, and Dean believed that he meant it, but there was still that lingering sense that Cas was cross with him anyway. When Cas had said he was going out to the park to take a walk and clear his head, Dean had fled to Ruby’s. She could be relied on to have tequila and vodka on hand at any time. Mind you, Dean hadn’t resorted to that. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t be his dad. Still, it was nice to know Ruby was the kind who’d laugh instead of judging. And he’d promised to help her with that new deck she wanted building. 

She’d got the plans out when he’d said he’d come to get on with that, but they hadn’t got any further. Dean stayed over at the table, anyway, staring down at the paper as if an answer to his current problems was sketched out on it, and Ruby was enjoying herself sitting cross-legged on the settee and just…being Ruby.

“Hey,” she said, after the latest burst of laughter had bubbled down, “does this mean we all get a job? Can I be photographer?”

“You take photos?” Dean asked.

“A girl can learn,” she said. “I’d make them classy. Artistic.”

“Ruby,” Dean closed his eyes and rubbed at his face, “you do know the photographer does not take photos on the wedding night itself, right?”

“So we’ll start a trend.”

Dean didn’t even bother to answer that one. The way things were going, Ruby would take that as agreement and would turn up at the wedding with a full photography kit, props and outfits included, but Dean was, at least, pretty sure that Anna would wrestle Ruby away for them. The fairy-godmother syndrome that had seemingly consumed his mom and her friend was going to be a tougher nut to crack. 

After several mugs of coffee, and once the clock was showing a time that Cas was prepared to accept existed on a Sunday, they’d managed to make pleasant enough conversation with Norma without committing to anything. Dean thought. Maybe they’d agreed to matching suits made of that material with tiny dinosaurs all over it. He could only imagine Norma had thought it was suitable for a wedding because the raptors were all wearing bow-ties. 

“We are going to end up with a D.I.Y. wedding from Hell,” Dean groaned. 

“You didn’t really come to help with my deck at all, did you, Winchester?” Ruby asked. “Which means, seeing as you haven’t gone running to Charlie or Anna or Jo, that you want my particular skill-set. You want me to scheme you a way out of this?”

Had he come to Ruby for that? She had zero moral compass when it came to getting a job done, he did know that. Hell, he’d benefited from that, a time or two. Still…

“Not yet,” he said, after a pause long enough that Ruby leaned forward, her lips parting in expectation. “Maybe have something ready in case, but no springing anything on my mom without my say so. You hear me?”

She shrugged, looking disappointed for a second.

“Your loss. But right off the top of my head, I’m thinking massive break-up. In public. Like, embarrassingly public.”

“What? Why?” For the life of him, Dean could not think of a single reason that would help. 

“Because then you get back together once they’ve scrapped all their plans and they’ll be so pleased you can have what you want.”

“They’re already pleased. It’s them being so pleased that seems to have let their brains be possessed by wedding-demons.”

“Wedding-demons?” Now she sounded on the verge of laughing again.

Before she could, the front door opened and Anna came in, pulling off her coat as she looked between them.

“Any reason Cas is on our front lawn, arguing with someone?” she asked.

Dean looked at Ruby, who looked right back, any laughter turned to confusion. 

“Not a clue,” Dean said. “I thought he was at the park.”

“Looks like he finished with that, then,” Anna said. “He seems to be really involved in it, whoever it is. You both staying for food? I’ll make a batch of brownies, in any case. And you might want to give Charlie and the others a ring. If you’re here, we might as well make a thing of it.”

She was gone before Dean could answer, and Ruby shook her head affectionately, pulling out her phone and greeting Charlie a few moments later. 

Dean wandered over to the window and looked out. Anna hadn’t sounded like Cas needed help, but arguing on someone’s front lawn was not a Cas thing to do. Had someone followed him from the park?

Through the slats of the blinds, Dean saw Cas standing on his own, one hand supporting his other elbow and his head cocked to the side. Ah. He was on the phone. He could only have been at the park for an hour, tops, before making his way to Anna’s, and Dean had no idea why he’d be arguing with someone on the phone. 

As Dean watched, Cas scowled and narrowed his eyes, looking about ready to set fire to something. He said something that must have been quick and angry from the look of it, and seconds later stabbed at the phone, glared at it, and threw it across the lawn. It skittered under a bush. 

Fuck.

Cas rarely lost his temper. When he did, it left him unsettled, and the guy was already under enough stress with all these stupid miscommunication with the wedding as it was. Making gestures at Ruby that he was going outside, Dean dashed out and met Cas on the lawn. Cas was still standing, looking at the bush his phone had gone under, his brows pinched together.

“Hey,” Dean said. “What was all that about?”

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Cas said. 

“Oh. Right,” Dean said, stung. A moment later, he caught himself and softened, concern for Cas overtaking anything else. “You came so you could talk to Anna.” It wasn’t a question. 

Cas nodded anyway. 

“This about the wedding?” If his mom and her friend had sent Cas into the head-space where he needed to turn up at Anna’s without telling Dean where he was going, then worried about his mom or not, Dean was going to have to say something. 

Cas shook his head.

“No. Not…not exactly.” He chewed his lip, his gaze drifting away from the bush and off across the street. It was unlikely he was seeing anything. “I rang my mother,” he said, the words quick and almost guilty.

“Your mom?” Dean asked, despite the fact he’d heard perfectly well. He managed not to look as surprised as he felt, but it took effort. Cas hardly ever talked about his family, but Dean did know he’d moved away from them for a reason, and he didn’t visit. Or hadn’t, at any rate, in all the time Dean had known him. 

“Yes.” And now Cas did look guilty, like it was some crime to speak to your own mom. “I thought, with your mom being so excited, that I should tell her…” He stopped, his mouth working but no words coming out.

“She didn’t go for it, huh?” Dean still hadn’t heard from his dad since the other day, but at least his mom was on board. A little bit too much on board, perhaps. Hell, she’d taken over piloting the ship. Still… “What’d she say?”

“I…” Cas sighed. “I don’t think she’s going to fight your mom over baking the cake.”

Much as he wanted to make some quip about that being a relief, that they’d end up with a whole cake-baking festival at this rate, Dean reached out and pulled Cas into a hug. Cas let himself be pulled, dipping his head so that his forehead rested on Dean’s shoulder. 

“Hey. It sucks, Cas. It does. But you’ve got us. And whether we can head off Mom’s super-cute Winchester craft-project wedding or not, everyone here is happy for us.” He pushed thoughts of his dad aside. His dad had stopped counting a long time ago. “You hear me?”

“Yes, Dean. I hear you,” Cas said, and he at least sounded like he was trying to be comforted. 

“Come on. Come inside, help Anna to make brownies, and tell Ruby all about the dinosaur patterned dress we’re getting Norma to make for her. She’ll love it.”

That got a laugh. A small one, but a laugh. They went inside, where it turned out Ruby was not, in fact, all that delighted at the thought of a dress with tiny dinosaurs on it. Turned out she wanted giant dinosaurs, tearing off people’s heads. With a straight face, Cas promised to ask Norma if she had any material like that, and nothing else was said about his family all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ExpatGirl, for sending me 'Eye of the Tiger' on a two hour loop to get me writing. (I don't actually know how to do that linking thing where you click and it takes you to someone's page - how do I do that? One of the many mysteries of things that I cannot do. :( Go and check out her fic, anyway. It's awesome and she sends songs.)


	5. Chapter 5

They’re in bed, this time safely hiding at Dean’s, by the time Cas turns to him and pushes his hand out until his fingers nudge against Dean’s arm.

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hey,” Dean answers, staying still and watching as Cas nibbles at his lower lip. He’s got that look on his face that means he’s building up to talking and Dean always feels like he’s in danger of sending ripples across a pond if he does anything, ripples that might wash away Cas’ words. 

“So, my mom isn’t coming to the wedding,” Cas says. His lips quirk into a tiny smile, or a replica of one. “Guess that means less hassle with the seating plan, right?” 

Dean moves, adjusting his body so he can reach for Cas’ hand and lace their fingers together. 

“That sucks,” he says. “You think she’ll come round?” He isn’t sure about his own dad, or about whether he wants him to.

Cas shrugs. 

“She isn’t well known for changing her mind. Ga-” He stops, and Dean squeezes his hand. If he can’t even use the word ‘gay’ when he’s thinking about his mom, it must be bad. “Let’s just say my family tends to have certain expectations, and going against them has never been taken well.”

He squeezes Dean’s hand and pulls away, rolling onto his back. Dean has no idea what he’s seeing in the ceiling that makes it worth looking at, but, hey, if it makes Cas feel better.

“Yeah, Dad was always about us following our orders,” he says, to fill some of the heavy silence that’s acting as an unnecessary extra blanket. “Sam was always angrier at that than I was.”

“Orders,” Cas muses. “Yes. And order. No deviating from the plan. But that wasn’t for me. Don’t worry, Dean. I made my peace with this years ago, when I first left. And it isn’t as though I made my decision blind. I wasn’t the first one to leave.”

“For the same reason?” Dean asks, because it sounds like Cas is too raw right now to tackle the fact he doesn’t sound at peace with it. Not at all.

Cas takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. 

“No. I don’t think so. It’s not like we’ve been in touch since.”

That leaves a hollow in Dean’s chest, the thought that Cas has been without family. It’s not like he didn’t know, really, but Cas turned up in town because Anna was here, and they’ve always seemed like family to Dean. He wonders if Cas’ found family is enough for him. It seems like a conversation for another time. 

“Sucks,” he says again, for something to say, and because it does.

For once, Cas doesn’t follow up with the obvious come-back, doesn’t slide over to Dean and down his body. He just sighs again, and rolls over to tuck his head in Dean’s shoulder. Dean falls asleep with Cas breathing on his neck, wondering if Anna wants to be part of the wedding party. 

 

*****************************************

 

Jess smirks at Dean from the open doorway, the collar of her jacket turned up against the chill that’s settled in overnight. 

“Hey, Winchester,” she says. “I need your help.”

She brushes past him as he stands back, her stride no less confident just because she’s pretty far along. Dean follows her into his kitchen, which as usual, despite its warm tones, dulls next to Jess. It’s not that she’s gorgeous, although Dean has to admit she is, even if she doesn’t hold a candle to Cas. It’s that she’s vibrant. 

“Here,” Jess says as he reaches her, “I brought you an engagement gift.”

She shoves a box at him and he takes it automatically, only glancing down when the smell hits him.

“Pie? You really do need my help.” 

Jess laughs.

“And I always pay market value,” she says. “Cherry. From that place you like.”

Yeah, the place she won’t tell him the name of. The box is plain and Dean does not believe for a minute that a bakery would use plain boxes, not with all the competition. He’s been convinced for ages that Jess has a special deal with them, or else keeps a stash of plain boxes herself. It’s just to keep Dean from finding out where he should be going to get this pie himself. Dean still has no real idea what Jess’ job at the CIA really means, but he’s sure she’s damn good at it. 

He sets the pie safely on the side before offering her a drink.

“No. I’m not staying long. Got a friend coming by to pick me up for a work thing.” And Dean knows the work friend will not be coming to the door. Jess’ work friends never do. “But I figured I just had time to wrangle you into my plans.”

“Wrangle me, huh?” Dean asks, his whole face feeling warmer and lighter as he smiles at Jess. Sammy couldn’t have picked better if he’d held some kind of interview. “You got some rope on you, there?”

“Like I need rope,” Jess scoffs, and for a moment Dean supplies the kind of comment Ruby would make for himself, but Jess is pulling something out of her pocket and he squashes the cringe-worthy, and entirely imaginary, comment. “As you know, it’s not too long until you’ll be Uncle Dean, and we have a load of stuff to do before the day comes.”

“You want me to help out with something for the baby?” Dean asks. He already knows he’ll say yes. “You wanting something painting? Building?”

“I’m wanting someone distracting,” Jess says. “Your brother, much as I love him, is insisting he comes to my baby shower.”

“Um. What? Aren’t those for your friends?”

“Exactly,” Jess says. “Fair enough, I’m not sticking with just inviting women, but how can we all sit around and make jokes about how I got pregnant with Sam in the room? That would just be tacky.”

Dean nods, even though he hopes she’s joking. He also takes a moment to remember that Ruby knows Sam and Jess, so that’s the tone of the shower lowered right through the gutter already. 

“Why would he want to be there? Don’t you sniff nappies and moan about not being able to drink? Doesn’t sound like a whole load of fun.”

“Shut your mouth, Winchester,” Jess says. “My shower will be epic and awesome. We’ll fight super powered humans and bring down secret organizations.” She grins. “And moan about not being able to drink. He’s all about sharing every experience with me, which is great, but I want him to go and have some fun with his big brother while my friends who already have kids tell me all about how much sleep and sex I won’t be having for the next ever. Sam can be spared that for a bit longer. So, you up for it?”

“A Jess-approved day out? Yeah. I’m in.”

Her phone buzzes and she pulls it out, her smile fading as she checks the screen.

“That’s my ride,” she says.

Dean shows her to the door and sees a red Chevrolet Corvette waiting across the street, a guy wearing sunglasses and a suit sitting in the driver’s seat. He doesn’t smile or wave, but it must be Jess’ ride. 

“Nice care,” he says. “A 62?”

“You have a good eye for cars,” Jess says. “I’d introduce you, but we’re already going to need to fly to make the meeting. Anyway, I’ll text you the date and you can sort out getting Sam on a trip. Make it something he has to say yes to. Oh,” she adds, as she’s already turning away, “and take Cas along. They should get to know each other.”

With that, she’s away across the street and sliding into the car, leaving Dean to wonder if her real aim isn’t to get Sam and Cas to socialize more than to keep Sam away from a baby shower. 

“Who was that?” Cas says from behind him, just before Cas’ arms snake around his waist.

Dean leans back against his fiance and chuckles.

“A woman you will learn to agree with,” he says. “Jess wants us to take Sam out for the day sometime soon.”

Cas makes a noise which might be agreement or might just be him falling back asleep while leaning on Dean.

Chuckling, Dean gets Cas back inside properly and closes the door, smiling at the mess Cas’ hair is in. 

“Dude, do you even own a hairbrush?” he asks. 

Cas squints at him, looking put out that his leaning post is moving down the hallway, and runs a hand through his hair. It doesn’t do much good.

“Of course I do,” he says, sounding grumpy. “I have several. You’ve seen them.”

“I’ve seen you leave them lying about like ornaments, Cas,” Dean counters. “Can’t say I’ve often seen you use one. Oh, come on, don’t look at me like that. Jess brought us pie. It’s cherry.”

“For breakfast?”

“Why not for breakfast. Let’s live a little.”

“I hardly think pie constitutes a daring lifestyle choice, Dean,” Cas mutters, but he follows him anyway.

The pie, as always, is delicious, and Dean thinks about suggesting they really do just have pie at the wedding, but after Cas getting upset about cake already he pushes the thought aside. Can’t hurt to find out if a suitably fancy pie can turn up for desert at the wedding breakfast, though. They’re having it for real breakfast, so that’s got to set a precedent. 

Cas looks a lot happier and a lot more awake by the time half the pie is gone, and takes up the task of suggesting days out.

“We are not taking Sam to a paint-you-own-plate day, Cas,” Dean says as he collects their plates and dumps them in the dishwasher. 

“I fail to see why not,” Cas says. “What a person chooses to paint on a plate can tell you a lot about them.”

“Yeah?” Dean smiles and leans back against the kitchen counter. “And what would you paint? A giant mug of coffee? A bee?” His grin widens. “An adorable and sexy counselor?”

“Yes, Dean,” Cas said, somehow conveying the impression of rolling his eyes without moving. “I would paint an adorable and sexy counselor onto a plate.” He pauses, a small frown pinching his brow. “Tell me, do you think Victor would agree to model nude?”

“What?” Dean spluttered. “Victor? You…? No!”

Cas shrugged.“A pity. I feel sure he would look sublime.”

“Cas, you are not painting pictures of my naked co-workers on plates.”

“For the purposes of being clear, which is the part you most object to?”

“No plates,” Dean said, and regretted it when Cas smirked. “And no naked co-workers, either! No, we need something else. Maybe we can go camping, or fishing. Or, hey, there’s that range Vic was telling me about. We could go there.”

“I am not going shooting,” Cas said, in a tone of voice which meant there was no further conversation to be had down that road. 

Dean winced. Right. Cas avoided most things that could remind him of his service. At least, Dean assumed that was the reason. For a counselor, there were a lot of conversations he should probably have with his significant other. “Yeah, well, probably be a waste of time, anyway. Can you imagine Sammy with a gun? He’d probably argue we should release the clay pigeons into the wild or something. Start a charity for them.”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Cas said. 

Dean nodded, his mind mulling over possibilities. 

“Don’t forget we’re meeting the wedding organizer at the hotel later,” Cas said, apparently deciding that Dean could think of a day out for them on his own. “Did you say you needed to go into work first?”

“Er, yeah. Just have a couple of things to finish up.”

“Well, I’m sure by the time you meet me at the hotel, you’ll have thought of the perfect day out for us,” Cas said, leaving his plate at the table. “If we aren’t eating any more pie, I’m going to head out.”

“It has to be awesome, Cas!” Dean shouted after him as Cas disappeared from the kitchen. “This is you and Sammy, hanging out, bonding, becoming best bros!”

He heard Cas pause, probably caught on the ludicrous idea of him being a bro, and then continue upstairs. But Dean meant it. Sort of. He wanted Sam and Cas to get on, as well as Dean got on with Cas. Well, maybe not in exactly the same way, but still… 

He was still thinking up ideas when he pushed into work an hour later, the glass door opening onto a quiet enough scene. Victor appeared from the corridor to the therapy rooms, a folder open in his hands as he walked, and he only looked up at Dean when he was halfway across the space. 

“Hey, Dean,” he said. “Didn’t know you were in today.” 

The easy smile wass warming and shouldn’t leave Dean flustered. Damn Cas and his remarks. Dean was almost sure Cas knew about Dean’s crush on Victor, years back, and having the idea of a naked Victor put in Dean’s head was not helpful. 

“Uh, yeah. Just came in to finish that paperwork.”

He glanced away, his cheeks feeling flushed, and hoped Victor was as oblivious as he always seemed to be back when Dean was full on crushing. 

“How are the wedding plans going?” Victor asked. “You set a date, yet?”

“Ha, no. We’re seeing a hotel later.”

Victor chuckled as he moved behind the desk and opened one of the filing cabinets. The guy on reception, a new hire Dean hadn’t met properly yet, smiled but stayed out of the conversation. Dean smiled back and made a note to have a friendly chat soon. He remembered what it was like to be the new guy. Right now, he was more focused on the point Victor had raised.

“Why the chuckling, man?”

“Have you ever tried to book a wedding venue?” Victor asked, leaving Dean wondering when exactly Victor had tried it. “Anywhere good books up months, years in advance. But that’s not even the best bit. You want to find out what someone’s really like? Take them to a venue and find out they have a burning need for somewhere that lets them bring a keg, or a fire-eater, or a small herd of zebra.”

“Zebra?” 

“You’d be surprised,” Victor said. “My sister thought it would be so easy, but her guy, it turned out he had all sort of must-haves that made me wonder if he’d been body-snatched. You might be surprised what you find out about Cas during this whole thing.”

“He’s Cas,” Dean said. “I already know everything I need to know.”

But he spent most of the time he was handling paperwork wondering if Cas was going to insist they had something at the ceremony or reception that would make every venue refuse. What if he said a wedding wasn’t complete without a pride of lions or something? Dean imagined getting married while a lion head stared at him and shuddered. Or perhaps Cas would want a hive of bees. That seemed more like him. But then they’d all have to wear bee-keeping outfits. That wasn’t going to go down well with his mom.

By the time he was ready to meet Cas, he had himself convinced there would be some weird and shocking discovery tied up in it, and he barely managed to smile at Victor and the new guy as he left. 

Turned out he hadn’t thought hard enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean stood to greet the wedding coordinator for the hotel, who carried a clipboard and a professional air. The whimsical little sprig of white flowers in his buttonhole didn’t really cut through that, and Dean was horribly reminded that, for this guy, other people’s weddings were a business. Maybe there was something to his mom’s excited dream of a home-made wedding. 

“Is you fiance joining us?” the coordinator asked, shaking Dean’s hand and smiling with practiced ease. His accent made him sound far more suited to the fancy hotel surroundings than Dean was. 

“Yeah. Yeah, he’ll be along. So, um, you get a lot of weddings?”

The guy laughed like that was a joke and offered Dean coffee, giving him brochures to browse through as they waited for Cas to arrive. 

“Are you thinking of a large wedding?” he asked, his pen poised to take notes. “We can accommodate varying sizes. If you’re after something more intimate, we have the flower room. It’s as much a work of art as it is a room.”

“Intimate?” Dean’s mind painted in a confused image of a Garden of Eden style wedding, with everyone standing in a room full of blooming plants, naked. 

“Fewer than 50 guests,” the coordinator explained. It was the fist time Dean’s heard that number of people referred to as intimate. “We also have a number of options for the wedding breakfast. A full banquet isn’t for everyone, but a lot of people still feel the grandeur of it is fitting.”

“I…er…we hadn’t really…”

“Dean.” 

Cas’ voice released Dean from having to answer the question, and he looked up to see Cas heading across the foyer to him, looking rumpled in a dark suit. Cas wasn’t in a suit when he left Dean’s place, so he must have gone home to dress up a bit to see the hotel. Dean felt like he was letting the side down, turning up in the jeans and T-shirt he wore to do his paperwork, but Cas was smiling so it didn’t matter.

“Hey, man. Glad you’re here. Got a load of things to decide, apparently. Like, do we want to be intimate?”

The way Cas’ face rippled with the urge to make the appropriate come-back was golden, and Dean knew he’d pay for that later. Before he could smirk about it, the coordinator was on his feet and Cas’ attention was drawn to him. Dean expected the hand-shake. He didn’t expect the frozen moment the two men stared at each other, or the way the coordinator pulled Cas’ hand until he had them in a hug.

After a few moments, Dean coughed.

“You two, er, you know each other?” he asked. 

The hug broke apart and Cas took a sharp step back, not looking overly pleased even though he didn’t pull away before. The coordinator smiled, something sad creeping in, but there was warmth there.

“I heard you’d joined up,” he said.

“Yes.” Cas’ answer was short and he looked away, not meeting Dean’s eyes, either. He seemed to be scanning the hotel lobby as though checking there aren’t enemies lying in wait. 

“It was a shame not to hear from you,” the coordinator tried, and Dean had the distinct feeling this guy really meant it. 

“Many things are a shame,” Cas replied.

Dean had seen that body language on Cas before. He was about three seconds from turning and walking away, whether he was in the middle of a conversation or not. To stall it, Dean reached out and rested his hand on Cas’ arm. 

“Let’s sit, shall we? Coffee’s on the way.”

If Cas really wanted to leave, Dean would go with him, but the coordinator had, if anything, softened, and Cas wasn’t seeming angry or afraid. If it was just the shock of seeing whoever this was, then Cas might regret it later if he bolted now.

Still, he only sank to the seat reluctantly, not looking at either of them, and made no move to get a coffee when the pot and mugs were brought a few seconds later. Instead, he sat with his hands on his thighs, oddly formal, and continued to scan the space. 

“You know Cas from way back, then?” Dean asked. He felt like he was prying. 

“Yes. We were friends.” The coordinator didn’t sound quite sure about that, but it was likely the way Cas was refusing to take part in this. “It worried me, to find you’d joined up,” he went on to Cas. “I knew you could handle yourself in a fight, of course, and I’ll never forget how good you were with a knife, but I figured you’d go into research or be a professor of dead languages or something. Something to really use that brain of yours.”

That seemed to sting Cas a little. He blinked, and finally met the man’s gaze.

“There has been plenty for my brain to do in battle,” he said, in a way that made Dean certain he never wanted the details. “And this is not what I saw for you, either. Weddings? Really, Balthazar?”

“Why not weddings? You wound me.” There was a playful edge to it, but Dean could hear something like hurt in there, too.

“You once told me weddings were yet another way the masses were deluded into remaining complicit in their own victimization,” Cas said flatly. “Although I have to admit that was only one of the many things you claimed held us down.”

“And were you so sure I was against being held down?” Balthazar said. Again, the smirk and innuendo was on the surface. His eyes tracked Cas for a reaction, though. “And you once told me you were straight.”

Ah. Was this an old would-be flame of Cas’, then? Had Cas left his home town because he couldn’t come out to his mom and be with this guy? Dean’s mind spun, but he can’t exactly ask that here. Right now, he needed to support Cas, who had that pinched look to him that meant he needed watching.

“We all learn new things about ourselves,” Cas said. 

There was a moment where Dean thought it was all going to blow up, but Balthazar sat back, picking up his clipboard and his pen, and gestured to the brochures scattered across the table.

“Well, I hope you haven’t changed too much, because I think you will love the garden package,” he said, and the tension drained out of Cas. “I seem to remember you like roses. If we book the wedding for the right time of year, you can have your ceremony surrounded by them.”

Dean wasn’t totally sure why that brought Cas round, but he was almost grateful enough to Balthazar to kiss the guy. He resisted, of course. And Balthazar was right. The garden venue looked perfect.

By the time they left the hotel, Cas was almost back to his default self, even to the point where he suggested they get a coffee on the way back to Dean’s place. Dean didn’t ask why they were avoiding Cas’, even though it was bigger. He didn’t especially want to run into Norma, himself.

He did wonder if Cas wanted neutral ground, though, for whatever talk they might be about to have.

Once they were settled in at a corner table with a drink and a snack each, he folded one of Cas’ hands in his on the table-top.

“So, you know that guy from way back?” he asked. 

Cas’ face tightened. 

“Yes.”

All right. So, not okay with it, then. Dean told himself he’d have one more stab at it and then let the matter drop. Cas had too much festering away in his head to not at least try and talk about this, but he didn’t want to push it.

“And what did you think he’d be, if ‘wedding coordinator’ is such a weird choice?”

That seemed to lighten the mood, enough at least that Cas’ lips twitch.

“Honestly?” he said, finally picking up his coffee and scooping some of the cream off the top with a spoon. “I thought he’d end up in a strip-club, or running one. Or maybe go on the stage. With Balthazar, you could never be sure, but it would always be raucous.”

“Raucous?” Dean smiled. “Sounds fund.”

“And exhausting,” Cas said, but he was smiling, now, too. It was almost fond. “He once dragged me to a nightclub. Said it would open my mind.”

“What kind of nightclub?” Dean asked, but Cas would’t answer. From the way his cheeks tinged, Dean knew it was a story he had to get from somewhere, sometime. “That good, huh?”

“It was an experience,” Cas admitted. He shifted in his seat, sitting back and sighing. “I suppose…I suppose it’s just a shock to see him. He was a good friend. Protective. But he’d always follow my lead. I think…” He trailed off, a frown pulling his brows together.

“What do you think, Cas?”

“I think perhaps I should have tried to stay in touch.”

“Well, looks like you have a second chance,” Dean said, and he wasn’t going to ask right now if Balthazar and Cas had any sort of a thing, not when it might come across as jealous. He trusted Cas. “You like that place for the wedding? Because if you do, we can see plenty of him over the next however long. And maybe you could ask him to come round and catch up.”

“Maybe,” Cas said, but he was clearly not completely sold on it, yet. “In any case, it has made me wonder.”

“About the other people from back home?”

Cas nodded. 

“It’s never too late. You know that, right?” Dean said. “If your mom won’t come to the wedding, you just reach out to other people. Balthazar clearly doesn’t have a problem with you. Could be a whole load of old friends will be delighted to hear from you, you give them a chance.”

He didn’t get a nod to that, but Cas did look thoughtful. Dean counted it as enough for now and dug into his slice of apple tart.


	7. Chapter 7

The wedding talk took a back seat for a few days, and it was next Saturday that Cas appeared in Dean’s kitchen wearing a panicked look and not much else. 

“You okay there, buddy?” Dean asked, pausing in the middle of scrambling eggs at the wide-eyed look on Cas’ face. Had Dean missed the phone ringing? Had there been bad news? 

“I don’t know what to wear,” Cas said. 

Ah. Dean relaxed and picked up where he was with the eggs, which were pretty much done. He let a smile creep into his voice as he answered, throwing a wink at Cas.

“Gotta say, you might want it to be more than you’ve got on now. Not that I’m complaining, but Mom might prefer you to be wearing more than boxers and…is that my tie?”

By the time Dean had turned off the heat and scooped the eggs onto plates, adding the bacon and toast, Cas was still standing with the end of the tie pulled away from his body, squinting at it like the pattern might be a map to a city of gold. 

“Yes,” he said, slowly, having apparently reached the conclusion that the moss green and gold thread tie belonged to Dean. 

It was his best one, actually, but he was happy enough if Cas wanted to it to make up fifty percent of his outfit. At least, when they didn’t have to leave the flat, he was. For today, it might need some friends to keep it company.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, having to gesture for Cas to join him at the table. “You forget to bring anything with you? Because you turned up with a bag, so I figured you’d packed stuff.”

“I did,” Cas said. “And now none of it seems right.” 

The scowl was adorable, but there was no chance Dean was saying that right now. He munched on a forkful of food and mulled over his choices. Cas could be grumpy, sarcastic and awkward, but he didn’t normally have a melt-down over what to wear for lunch. 

“You do know you’ve met them all before, right? Most of them,” he corrected, belatedly remembering that Cas might not have run into every member of Dean’s extended family. “And they all love you.” John didn’t count. “Seriously, wear what you had on yesterday. It’s just lunch.”

The look he got for that made him glad he had a fork in his hand, even if it wass a pretty crappy weapon. But Cas turned his attention to breakfast, the tie hanging down his bare chest as he cleared his plate, and Dean left him be for now. 

The plates erre empty when Cas sighed and leaned over the table to grab Dean’s hand. His eyes erre cloudy with worry.

“This isn’t just lunch, Dean. This is the first time I’ll be officially meeting your whole family as your fiance. I want to make a good impression.”

“Cas, you are one handsome son of a-”

“Yes, yes, okay,” Cas cut him off, and there was no arrogance in it. Cas had said before that he was aware, objectively, that people found him pleasing on the eye. He didn’t fully seem to get it, but he was willing to accept the evidence pointed that way. “But many things can be aesthetically pleasing. It doesn’t mean you want to welcome them to the family.”

“You,” Dean said as firmly as he could, “are already family. This is not about you joining our family. You’re in it. Okay? This is just one of those things people like to do so they can feel involved in our wedding. It isn’t even about us. You could turn up in a bathrobe and as long as Ellen’s happy, the guests are happy and Mom’s satisfied with the food, it’ll be good. Really. Hell, you really want to wear what you’ve got on now, I’ll support it.” As he saw Cas soften and felt the pressure of his fingers lessen, he smirked. “Can’t promise I’ll be able to keep my attention on the sandwiches or whatever, but I promise to drag you somewhere more private before I perform depraved acts on your aesthetically pleasing body.”

Finally, he got a laugh, even if it was one of those small ones that was more like a huff of air.

Cas elected to change into a thin blue sweater and jeans, and Dean made sure to mention how much his Mom liked blue as they drove over to the Roadhouse, where Ellen had insisted they get together to have the official congratulations lunch. He promised Cas again, as they pulled into the car-park, that everyone already loved him, and reminded him that he had way more in common with Sammy than he did with Dean, that all of their friends already knew and liked him, and that his Mom actively wanted them to get together. Cas nodded and looked reassured.

Dean was about to pull open the doors when Cas slipped the green tie out of his pocket and wound it around his neck, even though it didn’t quite go with the sweater. Cas winked. The bastard. 

“I’m interested to see how depraved you’re thinking,” he said, and made it into the bar before Dean had time to reply.

“Cas!” Mary’s voice floated out through the doorway, and Dean joined them in time to see his mom throw her arms around Cas’ neck in a hug that Cas only returned after a frozen second. Mary either didn’t notice or was just happy to get a hug back, because she pulled away a few moments later and beamed up at Cas.

“Nice tie,” she said. 

Dean thought his mom deserved more flowers. That might be the reddest he’d seen Cas turn in ages, and she didn’t even know why. 

“Come and meet everyone,” Mary went on, and Cas was pulled across the room with Dean trailing behind.

Dean stopped by the bar and let his mom do the meet and greet thing. She was clearly enjoying herself, and Dean was more than happy to hang back and watch. He leant against the bar and shared a smile with Jo, who was pouring a drink. She slid it over to Dean and got one for herself before resting her elbows on the bar and clinking glasses with him.

“You think this is going to send Cas running?” she asked. “I thought your mom was bad when Jess agreed to get hitched to Sam, but this is in another league.”

Dean took a few seconds to assess the situation. Cas was freaking out earlier, but right now he’d got one of those tiny, bashful smiles on his face, the kind that said he couldn’t quite believe he was being valued as much as he was, and a thread of warmth worked its way through Dean at the way his mom had her hand on Cas’ arm, at the way she smiled up at him and showed him off as something to be proud of. 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Pretty sure Cas can handle it, though. He’s tough.”

Before they could say anything else, the door to outside banged open, letting John through. He was wrapped up in a jacket and scarf, even though it wasn’t anywhere near cold enough, and he’d got a look on his face like he was about to face some invasive medical procedure. 

“Dean,” he said, the name clipped and curt, but he moved over to join his son. Jo passed him a drink and he scowled at it, but Jo knew better than to serve John Winchester alcohol, so the guy was going to have to put up with cola. John must know it wasn’t a battle he’d win here, because he turned back to Dean and fixed him with a look. “Where’s your boy?”

Dean couldn’t decide if his dad really put an edge on that last word or if it was just in Dean’s imagination, but the word itself made him bristle.

“Dad, he’s seen more military action than you have,” he snapped. “He’s not a ‘boy’.”

John didn’t answer, but Dean got the distinct impression his dad was circling the idea of Cas having more military experience than him and was slashing a great red cross through the notion. He could think what he liked. Anna had more experience than either one of them, and she managed not to posture about it. 

Speaking of, there was Anna now, winding her way through the clumps of people and smiling at Dean. Good timing.

“Hey, Anna,” he called as she gets close enough, “Come and meet my dad.”

To her credit, her smile barely flickered. She slid to a stop by Dean’s side, her huge eyes fixed on John’s face, and managed to look like the scariest thing in the room with no effort whatsoever. Dean almost wanted to hear John say something openly bad about Cas, just to watch what Anna did, but the joy of watching his dad being taken down by a frail looking woman wasn’t enough to overcome his greater need to have his family happy. Cas, at least, would be mortified to think any fighting over him had ruined this lunch. 

“Lovely to meet you,” Anna said. “You must be thrilled at Dean and Cas’ good news.” 

She barely paused before launching into her list of top one hundred reasons Cas was a gift from God, and Dean had to stop himself from snorting with laughter at the look on his dad’s face. Anna managed to slip in her old rank pretty early on, and it clearly caused his dad some conflict. Disagreeing with Anna would be disagreeing with a senior officer. Dean spent a happy few minutes wondering when to drop it on his dad that Cas made it further up the ranks than John did, as well, but decided to save that one for later.

Anna was just warming up when a crash pulled her up short, but Dean was too busy scanning for the source of the sound to note what John’s reaction was. Over by the long tables Ellen’s set up to hold the food, a shattered plate and a scattering of cupcakes was easy to locate. Jess stood over them, waving away the people near her, but Dean dashed over anyway. 

“You okay?” he asked, as soon as he got close enough. His hand itched to reach out and get hold of her arm, to steady her, but he knew that was ridiculous. If Jess was dizzy, she’d tell him she needed help. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “Butter fingers.”

She pulled a face, but she wasn’t really looking at Dean. 

“Do you need help cleaning that up?” Cas’ voice asked from over Dean’s shoulder.

Jess smiled, nodded, then shook her head.

“Well, yes, but not from you.” She pulled another face, this one the sort that said a foot had been shoved firmly into a mouth. “God, that wasn’t meant to sound so mean! Just because it’s your party and you don’t clean up at your own party.”

Before Cas could offer again, other people swooped in and took over the clean up, and Dean found himself sitting in a booth with Cas and Jess, Anna joining them a few minutes later. 

“Damn, I left you with Dad, didn’t I?” Dean asked. “Sorry for that.”

Anna waveed his apology away.

“No need to worry. Gave me a chance to discuss one of my favourite topics.” She grinned, and Dean could tell Anna had decided that Cas needed to be protected from any comments by John. There was something of a predator about her smile, a panther or some kind of bird of prey. 

Opposite Dean, Jess rolled her eyes.

“Can’t say I’d be as fine with being stuck talking to John. If he tells me one more time that I’m going to have a little soldier… I swear, I can see him thinking it’s a boy every time.”

“As though only boys can be soldiers,” Anna said, and Dean got to see Anna and Jess exchange a meaningful look. 

He couldn’t remember if they’d met each other before. Sam and Jess knew Ruby, but none of them had ever mentioned Jess meeting Anna that Dean could remember. Speaking of…

“Where’s Ruby?”

“You missing her, Dean?” Anna asked.

He shrugged and sat back, wrapping an arm around Cas’ shoulders and trying to shake the feeling that two parts of his life just collided. It wasn’t like it was a big deal, even if Anna and Jess hadn’t met before. He didn’t know why it bothered him, but something felt off kilter. Maybe it was more his dad being here. 

“Just thinking how nice it is not to have all the inappropriate comments,” he said, chuckling. There was no need for everyone else to know he was feeling off. He wanted Cas to feel the love, here, not to get worried over Dean having some weird reaction to so many of his people being in one space. 

“Don’t get too used to it,” Anna said. “Ruby said she’ll be here before we cut the cake.”

“Cake?” Cas perked up. “There’s cake? Where?”

It was Jess’ turn to shrug.

“Your mom thought we should get started on trying things out,” she said. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing fancy. But we do want to know if you like the frosting, okay?”

Cas’ eyes narrowed and Dean shifted in his seat, pulling Cas closer to him. They hadn’t quite sorted out yet how to deal with this whole cake thing.

“I’m sure the frosting will be fine,” Cas said, doing a good impression of not noticing that Dean had him in a one armed hug. “Have you and Mary given much thought to the decoration for the wedding cake?”

“Not yet,” Jess said. “It’s the sort of thing that takes thought, you know?”

“Yes,” Cas said. “I know.”

Dean was absolutely sure he was missing out on some subtext here, but he couldn’t for the life of him work out what. Happily, Ellen shouted out that food was ready before he had to worry about it, and he made a mental note to ask Cas if he was really still so upset about the cake that they needed to pull the plug of his mom’s plans. But later, because Ellen had apparently sweet-talked Jo into making those ribs she was so good at and Dean needed at least two platefuls. Because he was awesome, he stacked up a plate for Cas as well. 

On his way back to the booth, he ran across Charlie and got drawn into a discussion about their next trip to the land of swords and sorcery, and by the time he made it back to Cas both Jess and Anna were gone.

“Hey,” Dean said, dropping Cas’ plate and maneuvering his own onto the table-top without knocking any of the ribs out of place. “Where’d everybody go?” 

Cas tilted his head and swiveled his gaze from Dean’s plate to his a couple of times before fixing Dean with a raised eyebrow. Dean stared back and picked up a rib. If Cas wanted a tower of ribs piled as high as the one Dean had, he’d have to go and get them himself. 

“They left,” Cas said, which was about as informative as a thing with no information. “How long is this lunch supposed to be?”

Despite himself, Dean stopped chewing and only a few moments later realized he had the rib suspended in mid-air. He lowered it.

“Uh. It’s not got a closing time, Cas. Everyone’s seen you, Mom’s got to make a fuss. We can leave whenever you want. Why? You not happy?”

Cas dropped his gaze and regarded his plate of ribs for a while as though deciding which one deserved to die first. 

“It’s not that,” he said, at last. “It’s just…seeing everyone here… It’s making me think about what you said, about it not being too late. And I wondered… You said you wanted us to do something together, you and me and Sam…”

“Yeah,” Dean said. A blob of sauce dropped off the rib and onto his lap, and he grabbed a napkin to wipe it up, keeping most of his attention on Cas. “You got something in mind?”

With a twist to his lips, Cas reached for a rib and held it up as though inspecting it for flaws. Dean was tempted to point out that ribs didn’t work the same way as gemstones, but he restrained himself.

“I wondered…” Cas stopped, put the rib down, picked it up again. “I wondered if you and Sam might be willing to come on a road trip with me.”

“Road trip? Sure. I love a road trip. You know that,” Dean said. 

Cas nodded and glanced up at Dean.

“To my home town,” he added. 

Ah. Right. No wonder Cas looked uncomfortable. 

“You want me and Sam to come back you up back home, we can do that,” Dean said. He had visions of them riding into town and tackling Cas’ mom in some shoot-out. “You sure you want Sam along?”

“Yes. You’re right. We should get to know each other, and it will be good to have something else to focus on. Going home…it might not be easy.”

“But you want to do it, right?” Dean asked. “Because you do not have to. Not at all. But if you want to, we’ll be there. All of us piled into the Impala, sleeping under the stars, stopping off at diners, the works. Just say the word.”

“Thank-you,” Cas said, and he finally took a bite from the rib. 

Dean turned his attention to his own food, wondering just what they’d have in store for them when they got to Cas’ home town. It was almost enough to put him off his food. He only managed two more platefuls.


	8. Chapter 8

With warm leather under him and his two favourite people with him, Dean smiles into the sunrise as he navigates his way out of town. 

“Hey, Cas, do you want to tell us about your home town?” Sam asks, twisting in the front seat to peer into the back. “Dean says you haven’t been back in a while, but what did it used to be like?”

Dean also said Cas might not want to talk about it, but Sam has that excited edge to him that means his desire for knowledge has likely made him forget this. His brother is generally very considerate, but every now and again Dean gets the feeling it’s more a conscious decision than something inherent. Dean’s the one who bleeds when he’s upset someone he loves. Sam tends to think a good reason should justify it.

Either way, all he gets in reply is a grumble that’s a little too close to a snarl for comfort. Sometimes, Cas doesn’t seem entirely human. This is never more obvious than when someone tries to get him upright before the sun is at a decent height in the sky. 

“Drink your coffee, Cas,” Dean says, cheerfulness burbling up in his voice even though he knows it will irritate Cas further. 

He checks in the mirror and sees narrowed eyes scowling back at him. Cas does take a sip from the travel mug Dean handed him before they left the house, though. There’s a flask with more in, because Dean went with Cas on an early morning trip once and knows he’ll regret it if there isn’t close to a vat of coffee on board.

Sam takes the hint and falls silent, closing his eyes and dozing off as Dean listens to music and taps out the rhythm on the steering wheel. It’s almost lunch, and Cas has managed most of the coffee Dean brought, by the time Sam wakes up, wincing as he rubs at his neck and pushes his hair back from his face.

“Either of you guys hungry?” Sam asks. 

“I could eat,” Dean says. “Cas?”

“No.”

“Would you rather we didn’t stop?” Dean asks, letting the snappish tone go. 

“Of course not,” Cas says, then seems to realise he isn’t being clear. “Stop, by all means. I could do with fresh coffee.”

The place Dean pulls into is a local joint, something with wooden tables in a grassy area outside and cutesy curtains at the windows. He’s read decent reviews of it.

“Really, Dean?” Sam asks once they’re all out of the car. “This place looks like everything since 1973 passed it by.”

“Oddly specific there, Sammy,” Dean says, and heads for the door. “You coming, or are you worried you’ll get sucked back in time?”

Sam laughs and catches up, but they both have to wait at the door for Cas to make his way over. He looks like he’s not the one who suggested this trip. As they wait, Sam lowers his voice and speaks without moving his mouth much.

“Is Cas okay? He doesn’t look thrilled to be here. Was I snoring? I was snoring, wasn’t I?”

“Yep,” Dean confirms, “but that’s not the issue. I think he’s nervous about going back home. Wish he’d tell me why.”

Sam nods and Dean knows his brother’s taken that into his giant brain and will be on the look-out once they get to Cas’ home town for anything they need to defend Cas from, as though there might be zombies in the street or something. 

Cas reaches them, his eyes narrowed from squinting into the sun, and Dean makes a mental note to dig the guy’s sunglasses out of their bags. Cas is normally more organised than this, but if he’s feeling stressed about this trip then Dean will pick up the slack.

“Do they serve pancakes?” Cas asks, looking up at Dean with his nose scrunched up.

He looks smaller than normal and it takes Dean a moment to remember he’s standing at the top of a couple of steps.

“I can’t tell that from outside the door,” Dean says, but he reaches out a hand and pulls Cas up to join them, planting a kiss on his hair as Sam pulls the door open. “Let’s get inside and see.”

Inside they find a seat at a booth and accept coffee from the man serving. Cas looks slightly more able to cope with the day once it turns out they do have pancakes and he can have them with bacon and syrup. 

“I came out this way with Jess once,” Sam says as they wait for their food. “We didn’t stop here, though. She was in kind of a rush to get to the this bed and breakfast we’d got booked, and then she vanished off to the spa nearby for hours.”

“I promise if we go to the spa we’ll take you with us,” Dean says. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam says. “Jess came back limping. I’m not sure yoga and deep tissue massages are really any good for you. Just leave me a note.”

Cas seems happier now he’s got a fresh cup of coffee and it’s well past early. He smiles at Sam, one of his barely there quirks of the lip, and shakes his head.

“Yoga can be deadly,” he says. “I’d rather face armed combat any day.”

“Didn’t peg you for the yoga type,” Dean says. “When did you try it, anyway?”

Cas raises an eyebrow at him and Dean remembers he shouldn’t tempt Cas just before Cas smirks.

“I would have thought you’d peg me for the yoga type, Dean,” he says. “After all, you know how flexible I am.”

Dean hides behind his hands as Sam laughs again, louder this time, and he knows he’s only saved from worse comments by the arrival of the food. At least it lightens Cas up, and by the time they’re back on the road the car is full of chat and laughter rather than sleep or silence.

Still, when Dean catches Cas’ eye in the mirror, he can’t help but wonder what exactly is waiting for them in Cas’ childhood town.


	9. Chapter 9

Grace Falls turned out to be a cookie cooker type of place, with more fretwork on the houses than seemed sensible and trees lining the roads. Perhaps Cas just didn’t like how perfect the place felt, with that vague sense that someone would turn up and issue a ticket if you slouched or looked untidy. 

He slung an arm around Cas’ shoulder as they left the Impala, but Cas stiffened and he pulled back, confused. 

“Cas?” he asked. He felt Sam looking at them.

“It’s… I’m sorry. It’s just, not everyone here is exactly open minded.” Cas almost mumbled that, as though he was ashamed, as though Dean would somehow hold Cas responsible if they got any heat in this place.

Dean nodded, exchanging a quick look with Sam, who shrugged.

“So, we going right to your mom’s place or what?” Dean asked.

They’d parked by the curb on a street lined with white houses, some of them three and four stories high. Most of them had porches. None of them looked like the owners tended the gardens themselves.

“I…” Cas stopped and bit his lip, his head dropping. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested this. It’s not the fun bonding experience you wanted.”

“We’ll find a comedy show later,” Dean said, “Just tell us what you want to do. You got any friends you want to look up?”

At that, Cas looked thoughtful, tipping his head back as though the pale sunlight on his face would help to grow an idea in his skull. 

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Perhaps. I’m not sure if she’ll still be in the area, but we can see.”

“Lead on,” Dean said, gesturing Cas forwards with a sweep of his arm, and Cas paused for a moment, biting his lip, before setting off across the road.

Sam and Dean followed him, a few paces behind, and Dean watched the broad stretch of Cas’ back, the tension clear across his shoulders. Cas didn’t say anything as they left the street and crossed another road, this one taking them to a curving road of smaller houses. 

“She might not live here anymore,” Cas said, only just loud enough for Dean to hear him.

“Yeah, I get that,” Dean said. It occurred to him that Cas could have phoned ahead, or sent a message, and checked. It wasn’t like Cas to let something like that slide by. “It’ll be fine, Cas. We’re good with whatever.”

A few minutes later, Cas stopped in front of a single story house with a trellis up the wall. The garden and the trellis were full of roses. Cas bit his lip and stepped through the gate.

It only took a few minutes after knocking on the door before a shadow appeared behind the rippled glass. Cas turned around twice to leave in that short span. Each time, Dean patted him on the shoulder and told him they’d do what he wanted, and Cas stayed.

When the door opened, it revealed a woman with dark, curly hair and bright blue eyes. They were nearly enough to rival Cas’. Nearly. She peered up at them, her gaze going from Sam to Dean to Cas, where it settled with widening eyes and parted lips. She looked like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing, like Dean had turned up at her door with a ghost.

“Castiel?” she asked at last. “I didn’t… Your mom wouldn’t tell us where you’d gone.”

Dean saw Sam’s eyes flicker to him, but he kept his own gaze on Cas. The tension in his fiance’s shoulders was painful to see. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, looking away from the woman. “I should have…” He grimaced and continued, as though something tasted bad but he was going to push on through it anyway. “I should have told you myself. It was just… It happened more quickly than I’d anticipated.”

She tilted her head, looking as though she was trying to work out what in Cas’ coding had made him say that, and stepped forwards with her arms raised. Dean just saw the flash of surprise and relief on Cas’ face before the woman had him in a tight hug.

When she pulled away, she ran a hand down the side of Cas’ face and along his coat collar, straightening it, and Dean caught another look from Sam. 

“Hi,” Dean said, deciding Cas was too meshed up in whatever he was feeling to do the introductions. “I’m Dean. Dean Winchester. This here’s my brother Sam. Sorry for just turning up like this.”

“Not at all,” she said, glancing at him and back to Cas. Her lips tugged into a beautiful smile. “You must be thirsty. Come on in and I’ll get you all some tea.”

Cas followed her at once, and Dean pulled a face at Sam before following. 

Inside, the house was neat and clean, with soft fabrics and muted shades of green and brown. It was restful. They stopped in a living-room and Cas finally seemed to remember he was the only one who knew them all. Turning to wave at Sam and Dean, he repeated their names, apparently having missed the fact Dean had already introduced himself, and then smiled at their host.

“This is Hannah,” he said. “My very good friend, Hannah.”

The two of them smiled at each other again, and Dean was starting to feel a bit left out. He shifted on his feet and cleared his throat. Cas started and looked sheepish.

“And, Hannah, Dean is not just my friend,” he said, the nerves in his voice almost controlled. Cas reached out a hand and Dean stepped right up next to him and took it. “Dean’s asked me to marry him.”

There was a suspended moment where Dean felt he was waiting to be told whether or not he could have Cas’ hand in marriage, and he hoped like hell that this friend of Cas’ wasn’t going to turn on him. You couldn’t always tell. Cas’ jaw was tensed, his hand in Dean’s was clammy, and Dean squeezed his fingers.

Hannah blinked and the tension broke.

“Did you say yes?” she asked.

“Um, yes,” Cas said, sounding confused. He probably didn’t realize how he’d phrased that. “Yes, of course. We’re getting married.”

Hannah broke into a warm smile. It lit up her eyes, and Dean thought that if he’d met her before he’d met Cas, he might have been tempted to see if there was anything there. As it was, he was just relieved to see her look happy. At least one person in this town was responding to Cas in a positive way. That had to be worth the trip. Right?

“Oh, Castiel,” Hannah said. “I am so happy for you. Come, sit down. Let me get us something to drink and you can tell me all about it.”

Dean joined Cas on the tiny, grey and heather-purple checked couch and Sam took an armchair nearby. Hannah left the room and Sam leaned in.

“So Hannah…did you go to school with her?”

“No,” Cas said. He spoke quietly, as though there was some special weight to anything said here. “No, Hannah and I…” One corner of his mouth tilted into a fond smile. “Hannah and I met at Church.”

“Church?” Dean asked.

Cas had never mentioned going to church. He was difficult to get out of bed at all most Sundays, unless he was at work.

“Yes.” He answered as though it should have been obvious. “We were both expected to attend bible study classes, to help out at events, to mind younger children when the adults were discussing Church business.” He stopped, something clouding his eyes, but it was gone quickly. “In any case, we spent a lot of time together, for a while. It’s…it’s good to have her acceptance.”

Hannah reappeared before Dean could ask anything else, bearing a plate of biscuits.

“I only have herbal tea,” she said. “Is that all right?”

“It’s fine, Hannah,” Cas said. “Really, I’m just glad to see you.”

With an expression of fondness so strong that Dean wondered if he should leave, Hannah sat down on the chair opposite Cas, the biscuits held on her lap.

“I’m pleased to see you, too,” she said. “I hope this time you’ll let me know where you are, so we can stay in touch.”

She didn’t sound annoyed or like she was making a point, but there was a sadness there.

“I will,” Cas said. “I… Here.”

Letting go of Dean’s hand, Cas pulled out his phone and glanced at Hannah, who set the biscuits down and fetched hers. Before long, contact numbers had been exchanged and Hannah had brought in the tea, minty and fresh in a small green teapot. Everything about Hannah felt wholesome and strong and Dean was starting to think they should just leave it as that, just skip any visit to Cas’ mom’s and spend the afternoon with Hannah, maybe see if she’d like to go out for a meal.

Sadly, Hannah seemed to have other ideas. With a gentle click, she placed her teacup on its saucer and sat back, her expression considering.

“Have you seen your mother, yet?”

Cas shook his head, looking away. His mouth tightened.

“Are you planning to?” Hannah asked.

“It was my intention,” Cas said, still not looking at her. 

This was not the Cas that Dean was used to, teasing and snarky and confident. This was a man who was much more contained, much more subdued. Dean felt the urge to wrap him up safe and warm and make sure nothing could hurt him. He resisted: he could just imagine Hannah’s expression if Dean pulled the throw from the seat behind her and made Cas into a burrito. 

“Would you like me to come with you?” Hannah asked. “Safety in numbers, right?”

It sounded like a well-worn phrase, and Cas’ lips quirked up a bit more at the sound of it. He met Hannah’s eyes again, the blue brighter and warmer.

“Yes,” he said. “But, I think perhaps this is something I should do alone. Would you mind if Dean and Sam stayed here? Perhaps we could eat a meal together after.”

“What?” Dean said, before Hannah could respond. “You want to bench me? Cas, I can cope with seeing your mom. Hell, you met my dad.”

Cas sighed and turned to face Dean. 

“My mother is not like your father, Dean. Well, I suppose she is, in some ways. She has always demanded obedience, compliance.” He held up a hand when Dean opened his mouth to say that was exactly like John Winchester. “As I say, there are similarities, but your mother helped to soften your father’s commands, his expectations.”

Dean had to nod at that, and he saw Sam pull a face that meant he saw the truth in that, too. God only knew what would have happened if they’d only had John pulling their strings. 

“You saying your dad didn’t help at all?” Dean asked.

This felt like a very private conversation to be having, in some ways, in front of Sam and this Hannah, but the sense of peace and stability in Hannah’s home was hard to ignore. There was something of a confessional about the space, a place where you could speak what was weighing you down and feel understood. Dean would love to get her help redecorating his office space to help his clients feel so safe.

“My father was barely around,” Cas said, his mouth pulling into an expression of distaste. “When he was, his instructions were… He claimed to love us, but some of the things he commanded were…” Cas broke off and blinked, and Dean hated to see the liquid sheen in Cas’ eyes in that moment. “It doesn’t matter. None of us have seen him in years. You have to understand that my mother, she tried to keep us together, to keep us strong and safe, but her requirements were something many of us could not live up to.”

“You said something about that before,” Dean prompted. “That you weren’t the first one to leave?”

“No. No, not at all.”

Cas lapsed into silence and the others let him, exchanging looks and waiting. When Cas spoke again, there an was an element of distance in his voice, as though he was moving himself as far from his own memories as he could.

“Joining up was almost liberating. I was used to following instructions, to working as a unit. Hannah used to say that my family were more an organization than a family.”

“I said you were a cult,” Hannah said, a slight sharpness in the words. “I also said you were right to think of leaving. I only wish you’d come to see me, to let me know you were going. And I wish you had kept in touch. But you can remedy that now, and I am delighted to see you. If you want to see your mother alone, to tell her your news, then Dean and Sam are more than welcome here. You were a brother to me, Castiel, and any family of yours is family of mine.”

Dean shifted on the settee, not sure what to do with all of this earnest speech, but he managed to flash a grateful smile at Hannah. Still, no way was he sitting here and letting Cas go to face a woman who, by the sounds of it, had made him flee from his home to get some freedom. 

“You really expect me to stay here and let you go face her by herself?” he asked.

Cas frowned.

“Let me? Dean, you are not my commanding officer.”

“Fine. You want me to phone Anna and get her to tell you I can come?”

“You’ve never said you wanted Anna’s permission for that before,” Cas said, apparently not able to resist even in the middle of this reunion and attendant heartfelt conversation. “I’m not sure she’d be into that. I can ask.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open and he glanced at Hannah, wondering what she’d be thinking at that. To his amazement, she had a soft smile on her face, as though watching Cas twist someone’s words to throw them off balance was a reason for warm and fuzzy feelings. 

“I…You…I never…” Dean managed, as he heard Sam splutter back a laugh behind him. “Fine. Okay. So, not ‘letting’ you. But seriously, man, this is not something you need to do on your own. I want to support you. You get that, right?”

Cas’ frown deepened, but he looked to be thinking.

“I suppose,” he said, after a pause, “that you have a point. I warn you, though, Dean, my mother is not an easy person to be around. If you really do want to come with me, then, yes, we can go together. But Sam, I would prefer it is you didn’t join us for this. If…if that’s okay.”

Sam agreed easily, stressing that he would be there as soon as possible if either one of them called him, and Hannah said she could use Sam’s help in getting a meal together for when Dean and Cas came back. If Sam looked a bit taken aback at the idea of being sous-chef for a woman he’d just met, that was really a minor point in this whole thing.

Within half an hour, Cas and Dean stood back on the street they’d parked on, looking up at one of the largest houses there, and Cas very deliberately took Dean’s hand before they started up the path. Together.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a tiny chapter of Tiny Impala!

Cas’ mom was younger than Dean had been expecting. Her hair curled over her ears, dark and glossy, and she had eyes nearly as blue as Castiel’s. 

Actually, she was way too young to be Cas’ mom.

“Hael,” Cas said. “Where is Mother?”

“Your mother’s out,” Hael said. She glanced at Dean and back to Cas as though not sure she should mention that Cas had someone next to him. “She didn’t say you’d be calling.”

“She doesn’t know,” Cas said. 

His shoulders were stiff and Dean repressed the urge to reach out and stroke a hand along them. He didn’t know quite how things were here. Instead, he followed Cas as Hael stepped back and let them into the house, closing the door behind them with a click that sounded oddly final. Without speaking, Cas moved down the wide, wooden-floored hallway and into a room on the left. More wood flooring, this time with deep red rugs and biscuit coloured settees. A chess-board sat on a table near the window, a piano not far away. There was no sign of a TV. 

Dean saw the both of them reflected in the huge mirror over the fireplace, Hael behind them with a look of confusion on her face. 

“When will Mother be back?” Cas asked, and Dean hadn’t heard the guy be so formal in…well. In ever. “Is anyone else at home? Gabriel? Anyone?”

Hael opened her mouth, closed it, and narrowed her eyes. Cas must have seen it, because he turned and faced her, his own face tight.

“Hael? Are they home?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Hael asked, as though whatever she was talking about would have been on the news. “Only Michael lives here. Michael and me.”

“You moved in?” Cas asked. “What happened?”

Hael crossed her arms over her chest, shrugging. The movement pulled her cardigan more tightly around her shoulders, making her look hemmed in. 

“Michael might know. Your mother… You know how she is.”

Cas nodded, his eyes falling shut as though he knew all too well how she was. Dean didn’t. He had no idea what was going unspoken, and a bit of a clue wouldn’t hurt.

“Er, Cas?” he asked, moving so he was right next to his fiance and touching his elbow. Light, grounding touches, but nothing constricting, nothing too demanding. Anna had been clear on that. “You mind filling me in on what we all know your mom is like? And who are Gabriel and Michael?”

“My brothers. They lived here, the last I heard.”

Cas has lost track of his own brothers? That was…worrying. Dean knew the guy was distant from his family, but he’d assumed cards or emails got exchanged. The idea that you could misplace a member of your own family was disturbing.

“And Hael here?”

“A cousin,” Hael said. “Look, I don’t want to be difficult, but if your mother doesn’t know you’re visiting, she might not be back for a while, and even if she is…”

“You don’t want to get on her bad side by being a part of this,” Cas said flatly. “Don’t worry, Hael. I’m a big boy. I can shoulder this on my own. Run along and leave us to wait for Mother.”

“I…” Hael paused, glancing over her shoulder as though Cas’ mom might appear at any second. 

“You can go, Hael,” Cas said, and this time echoes of his past-career rang through his words. 

If Dean had spoken to Sam like that, there’d have been a row. Well, Dean did speak to Sam like that sometimes, and it did end up in them fighting, mostly. Dean had never had to order Sam about in life or death situations, though, and Cas’ tone right now was the kind of thing that got people moving under fire. Hael moved. Her chin snapped up and she left.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean asked, because he knew his fiance’s body and mannerisms, and Cas was ramrod straight and almost shut down, but Dean could see the fine tremble in his fingers, where they brushed against his thighs. 

“Fine,” Cas said. 

Yeah. Like Dean was going to take that at face value. 

Before he could ask another question, Cas’ gaze sharpened, fixing on the doorway, and moments later a man strode into view, wearing a suit Dean knew from some of the magazines he read was expensive enough to make Dean poorly dressed. Hell, even in this house it was too much. The stylishly cut dark hair and the way the guy held himself, upright like Cas but without the stiffness, nudged the uncomfortable feeling into Dean’s mind that he should be apologizing for sharing the same air. Which…fuck that. 

“Castiel,” the guy said, his eyes sliding over Dean with a faint crinkling of his brow before landing on Cas, who pressed his lips together. “This is a surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Michael,” Cas said, clipped. “I was hoping to speak with Mother.”

“Mother is away just now,” Michael said. He seemed amused by it. Fuck knew why. “But if there is anything you need to speak with her about, you may speak to me in her stead.”

In her stead? Who spoke like that? Dean had always imagined Cas grew up in some tidy, precise home with parents who held dinner parties and expected perfect grades, but he hadn’t thought there’d be this dynasty vibe to the deal. He’d apparently been a few steps wrong on the ladder, there. 

If anything, Michael made the house around them seem too small and inexpensive for him.

Cas looked to be considering, as far as his expression revealed much of anything. 

“Fine,” Cas said, and his hand shot out, snagging Dean’s wrist and pulling him closer. Dean went willingly, keeping his head up as Cas slipped an arm around his waist and pressed them close together. “I wanted to introduce Mother to Dean. We’re getting married.”

There was a faint curl to Michael’s lip as he answered. He very noticeably didn’t look at Dean.

“Mother will be disappointed,” he said. “She has never quite stopped hoping-”

“She can hope all she wants,” Cas said. Snapped. “Dean will be my husband. I will be sending you an invitation to the wedding. It’s entirely up to you if you bother to attend, but I won’t be changing my mind. It was good to see you, Michael. Give my regards to Mother.”

And without further anything Cas set off out of the room, still holding onto Dean, who had to put in some fancy footwork to avoid landing in a heap on the floor. 

They were outside before Dean quite felt he’d got his balance back, but by now Cas had him by the wrist and was more or less dragging him down the road as though Michael might have set something to chasing them. Dean kept quiet until they were by the Impala, and then hauled back, bringing Cas to a halt.

“Hey,” he said. “Cas? Get in.”

Cas looked for a moment as though he might argue, but he did as he was told. Once they were in the car, Dean pulled away from the curb, letting his own tension at that family meeting wash away in the vibrations from his baby. They were away from the houses and nearing a strip of restaurants and shops before Cas slumped back in the seat. 

“You wanna tell me what that was about?” Dean asked. 

He knew what it had seemed like, but Cas had told him so little, really, about his family that Dean was trying not to assume. Besides, Anna had told him it was important to let Cas process things and tell his side of it. 

“I’m hungry,” Cas said instead. 

“Okay.”

Dean pulled over and parked, sitting with his hands on the wheel once the rumble of the engine stopped. He peered out of the windscreen at the places in view, spotting a burger joint and someplace that served Mexican food. Another restaurant looked like it might do fancier meals. 

“What do you fancy?” Dean asked. 

Cas got out of the car, leaving Dean to follow him, and set off past every place Dean had noted. He headed right on, with Dean catching him up after he’d locked the car, and pushed into a place that looked like any food it served would be bar snacks. Unless Cas fancied a liquid lunch.

Cas wanting to drink was rarely a good sign.

They got settled in a booth, Cas almost stony in his silence. His long fingers tapped against the glass holding his whiskey and Dean resisted the urge to take it from him. Whiskey in the daytime wasn’t Cas’ thing, but there’d been a few times when Dean had wondered how it would go if Cas let himself indulge. The guy got scary fixated on things at times, and Dean had had enough of seeing a person take to drink that way with his dad. 

Cas was controlled, though. Cas was one of the most self-controlled people Dean knew. He was worrying over nothing. 

When Cas ordered a second drink before Dean had made it halfway through the single beer he was allowing himself, Dean shifted on his seat and tried not to frown.

“Problem?” Cas asked. There was a challenge in there.

“Just don’t like seeing you upset,” Dean answered. “Any chance you feel like sharing?”

“Not particularly.”

Cas stared at Dean for almost thirty seconds before he blinked, looked away, his shoulders dropping. The sigh that rattled out of him shook his frame.

“I shouldn’t have come back. I have you, and your mother and Sam are both very welcoming. I should have just let it go.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Dean said. “Cas, I don’t know all that was going on back there, but you’ve got a right to try and reach out to your family. It’s only natural. Question is, do you want to try again, or leave it at that? And you don’t have to tell me everything about how it went down when you left.” He was pretty sure he could imagine how Cas’ family had taken learning he was gay, the way Michael’s lip had curled. “I’ll come with you again if you want, or we’ll get a place to stay and wait for you. Or we can just leave. Whatever you want. But let’s not decide right this minute, okay? Let it settle.”

Cas looked slightly less hunched when Dean got through all that, so he lifted his drink and raised it to Cas, fixing a suitably warm but not over-the-top smile on his face.

“Besides, that friend of yours seems cool. We can hang out with her some more, like she said. You can make any decisions later. Assuming we’re not on a bar crawl now. Are we on a bar crawl now?”

That got a twitch of the lips, and Cas finally met his eyes again. 

“No. Not a bar crawl. You’re right. We should just enjoy seeing Hannah. I’ll decide what to do about my family later. It would have been nice, though, to have them at the wedding.”

He sounded wistful. It was not a tone that Dean wanted to hear from Cas. And he decided, right then and there, that if Cas decided he couldn’t face speaking to his family again, Dean would take over doing everything he could to see if they could be brought around. After all, he had Jess to call on, and someone who worked for the CIA should be able to help Dean handle Cas’ family just fine. 

“Drink up,” Dean said. “And let’s go have that meal with your friend. Hey, have you thought of asking if she wants to be flower-girl?”

Cas’ smile grew into more of his usual smirk.

“I was thinking we should give that role to Sam.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come see me on tumblr: [humanformdragon](http://humanformdragon.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Also, this is not the angsty, Cas' reworked memory obsessed deal as my other fics. I need something for when I need to write lighter stuff. :)
> 
> Please do comment. Let me know if a line works or if something struck you. Well, not literally. I don't need to know if you get hit by a stray rock whilst reading. Unless one of my fic demons nipped out of the screen and threw it... Anyway, comment. :)


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